Star Trek: Dark Age The Death of the Light
by Auriq
Summary: New chapter: Homefires, Chapter Four: Both Jason and Aishwarya face the same dilemma: Which is the more forgiving fate when trapped? Death... or new life?
1. Prelude: Images of the Dawn

Images of the Dawn

_"How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life, wouldn't you say?"_

_-James T. Kirk "The Wrath of Khan"_

_----------------------------_

HOW did it all begin?

_Ironically enough, one could say that the heavens themselves began in darkness and fire, an image more apt to describe a hell. Two molecules, spinning around each other since time immemorial. Dancing an endless dance, but never touching until the day where one was pushed a little too close to the other and sparks erupted._

_Be they literal or figurative, those sparks were the solitary pebble tossed upon the still waters of the Universe. The waves spread throughout all of creation until, out of that single split-second collision, life formed and civilizations rose. The Progenitors; the Preservers; the Iconians; the Bajorans; the Vulcans and, by extension, the Romulans; the Klingons, the Andorians..._

_The Humans._

_Infinite species, in infinite space, inhabiting the fragile, spinning stones we call worlds. All born of the same moment in time, each vastly different from all the others, but each possessing the same goal: To rise above the muck and mire of their birth and improve themselves. For some, that meant conquest. For others, it meant cooperation. In an effort to ensure this universal goal, several species banded together to create a new civilization. An economic, political and philosophical alliance where different races could come together and discuss their ideas and cultures as equals._

_The United Federation of Planets._

_It began small. Founded in the Earth year 2161, it consisted of three races. The Humans, the Vulcans and the Andorians. Slowly, but surely, the fledgling alliance spread to other worlds, embracing different cultures rather than conquering them. Yet, even as it grew, it discovered adversity from several of the cultures it encountered. Mere months after its founding, the Federation faced its first conflict: The Romulan Wars. Fought with primitive atomic weapons, the war was won by a narrow victory for the Federation at the Battle of Cheron. The Romulans retreated to their own space, and remained there for over a hundred years. It was the first war fought by the allied races..._

_But it would not be the last._

_The Romulans were defeated, but new challenges arose. A cold war was waged with the Klingon Empire for nearly a century; In 2365, a cybernetic race known as the Borg Collective launched a war on the Federation, leading to the massacre of the Federation fleet at Wolf 359, followed by the near destruction of Earth years later in 2373;That same year, the Federation went to war with both the Dominion and the Cardassians; Soon after the close of the Dominion War, the USS Enterprise-E fought a pitched battle in the Bassen rift, narrowly preventing a war with the Romulans and their sister species, the Remans. As time marched forward, the scope of the wars grew, until they were fought across the fabric of time itself. The Temporal Cold War, fought secretly in dozens of different centuries and universes only fifty years ago._

_And so the list of wars and insanities goes on. _

_Through it all, the Federation never lost hope in its vision of peace and unity. Enemies became allies. The Klingons joined the Federation, later followed by the Romulans, the Dominion, the Cardassians, and finally the Borg. By the close of the 28th century, the Federation stretched from one side of the Milky Way galaxy to the other. Four quadrants, each one governed by it's own Federation and each Federation tied to the others through the Grand Senate. Since the end of the Temporal Cold War, the galaxy has largely been at peace, a great civilization reaching across the stars._

_The Humans, though, have an ancient saying. "Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it." And a civilization as vast as the United Federation of Planets should learn at least one lesson. A lesson it has failed to acknowledge._

_If all civilizations have one thing in common, it is that, no matter how great they are, they will all fall. If not by their own sins, then by the sins of those who came before..._


	2. Forever in a Day, Chapter One

** Forever In A Day, Chapter One**

"_Change is the essential process to all existence."_

-_Spock_ "_Let That Be Your Last Battlefield_"

_----------------------------_

_There..._

She ran headlong through the streets of the deserted city, dark hair whipping madly about her face as her breath came in short, explosive pants. They were close now, probably no more than two hundred meters. She could hear the howling of their beasts as they hunted her, could almost feel the pounding of their boots beneath her feet. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep herself from turning to look behind her, searching for the demonic forms that chased her.

Her foot caught on a piece of rubble in the street and she fell, hands spread out to brace herself. The impact, though, still jarred her, the shock racing up her arms and across her chest so painfully she bit her own tongue. Spitting blood into the ash strewn ground beneath her, she pushed herself to her feet and set off again, losing precious seconds as she struggled to regain her momentum.

Her legs felt like they were on fire, muscles straining to keep up the near impossible pace she demanded of them. The air was heavy, thick with falling ash which her overworked lungs desperately tried to breathe to keep her running.

There was a whisper of air moving and she watched in shock as a bladed disc flew past her right cheek, it's serrated edge missing her by inches. Throwing herself to the right, she narrowly avoided the deadly whisper of another blade as it embedded itself in the wall. Crashing into the rubble, she used her own momentum to spin around the corner and continue running. They were getting closer with every second. She couldn't afford to wait any longer.

Still running full tilt, she reached into her coat pocket and yanked out the boxlike communicator. Flicking it on, she screamed at the top of her lungs into it. "Now! Do it now!"

There was a hiss of static for a long second, a second where she prayed to every god she had ever even heard of that the communicator hadn't been broken in the fall. Her prayers, for once in her life, were answered with a resounding yes as the static was replaced by a young male voice. "Skipper, if we do it now, you'll be stuck down there! We'd have to leave the system without you!"

"Tal, I don't care! You have the coordinates, just do it!"

Her boots thudded on the uneven ground as the first voice was replaced by a deeper one, older and filled with the sorrow wisdom brings. "We will return for you. You have my word."

A grin formed on her lips. "Just do it, Kordath. Let me worry about me for now."

The sky split with a screaming noise as the small starship descended through the clouds, it's only functional phase cannon streaking an orange beam at the ground three kilometres behind her. Sneaking a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the shields on the enemy base fail and collapse as the starship launched a torpedo groundwards. All her hard work on this mission, all her sacrifices, were rewarded as she watched the installation explode in a maelstrom of photonic fire, debris raining everywhere as it died. The starship peeled away as five enemy fighters swerved toward it and began to fire. She lost track of the ships as they entered a low cloudbank and she prayed again for her crew. Let them make it out. Please.

The communicator crackled in her hand and the second voice spoke again, certainty in every word. "We will return for you."

The last thing she heard as the communicator went dead was the sound of the ship going to warp. They were safe.

Unlike her.

Still she ran, the sounds of her pursuers growing louder in the aftermath of the explosion. Dirty black boots pounded across the grey rubble as she pushed herself to her limits, then slowly began to exceed them. She had to find a way to hide from them until her crew came back for her. That was her mission now. Survive.

Two prayers had been answered in a single day, and now the time had come to pay the price. She skidded to a halt at the edge of the chasm, barely saving herself from falling into it's depths. She looked from side to side. Ruined buildings loomed on both her right and her left, cutting off any hope of escape. She spun around just in time to watch her hunters emerge from the smoke, their black armour segmented like reptilian skin, pale skin and dark eyes fading in with the ash clouds. Nightmares, every single one of them. Lifting her hands above her head, she spat the words out at them, the syllables tasting like bile in her throat.

"Looks like you got me."

The last thing she saw as they beat her into unconsciousness was the building on the other side of the chasm, it's ruined structure collapsing from centuries of abandonment.

The deserted remains of Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth.


	3. Forever in a Day, Chapter Two

**Forever in a Day, Chapter Two**  
**  
**_"Without the darkness, how would we recognize the light?"_  
_-Tuvok "Cold Fire" _

_-_

The system itself had no name, just a number. A number etched into the minds of every single Federation citizen across the four quadrants as the site of one of the last remaining mysteries.

UFC 465537. The home system of the Guardian of Forever.

Far above the surface of the system's only planet, lit by the dead, cold and distant star, a beacon pulses steadily, it's rhythmic signal stretching out across the ether. Placed there by the starship _Enterprise_ under the command of Captain James Kirk, it has stood guard for nearly a thousand years, warning all ships away from the world and the artefact lying beneath it. In all that time, none have ventured the surface of the planet, stood beneath it's skies or gazed upon the awe of the Guardian.

For nearly a millennium, the planet has stood cold and silent, haunted only by the winds of time.

No longer.

_-_

He stood alone on the shifting sands, listening to the strange howling of the wind, a sound which cut through even him and sent shivers through his very soul. It was as though the dead themselves were trying to warn him away from his course of action, to return home and never think of this place again. _Only the Damned live here_, they cried, _close your eyes and avoid their hungry stares_.

The ground was the brackish grey of an open grave, rocks and shale jutting out at impossible angles like bones reaching for the lightning-filled skies. In the distance, lay the remains of a civilization so ancient that none remembered their name. Not even his people had memories stretching back that far. The city had always lain there, the ruins shifting in and out of time and memory like a dream upon waking. Sparkling and incandescent one moment, cold and dead the next. So has it always been, and so shall it always be.

The air itself smelled of ozone, the smell of a storm about to break. An oddity, since it had not rained on this planet in millions of years, perhaps even longer. The entire world had the impression of a single moment, stretched into eternity. Never beginning, never ending. Only being.

A world perched on the edge of Forever.

Before him lay the Guardian, the strangely shaped archway laying quietly in the night. While the rest of the planet seemed dark and grey, coated by an impenetrable layer of dust, the Guardian itself sparkled like new, as though it had been placed there only moments before. In a cold world, it alone held any vestiges of warmth. Some of the few who had seen the Guardian spoke of a feeling of awe-inspiring power, and yet he felt only a cold knot of terror deep within himself. He had long ago witnessed the power he had come to release from imprisonment, and he found it difficult to justify his coming actions to himself. Long before any of the other races had gained sentience, had risen from the subatomic sludge to walk on dry land, the Multiverse itself had shaken in terror of this one, a weapon as equally terrifying as the danger it was created to protect against. It was with good reason it had been imprisoned here, and while he personally believed that some things were best left forgotten, others disagreed.

It was a difficult thing to admit terror. Especially for a Q. Gathering his courage, he stepped forward.

"Guardian."

A flash of light, and he was witnessing history itself. The birth of the Continuum, the teachings of Surak of Vulcan, Kahless the Unforgettable forging the first Bat'leth, humans discovering fire, all of the images flew across the face of the Guardian in the blink of an eye.

"The time has come." He drew a breath he didn't need, a strangely mortal act, but one which brought him comfort. "Let me see him."

The booming voice of the Guardian echoed across the plain, rattling stones and drowning out the thunder. **"I MUST AGAIN WARN AGAINST THIS THING YOU INTEND. IT IS A PLAGUE, A POWER THAT, IF RELEASED, WOULD SWEEP ACROSS ALL OF CREATION LIKE FIRE UPON TIMBER, LEAVING NOTHING BUT ASHES AND DEATH BEHIND. SHOULD THIS ONE ESCAPE, HISTORY ITSELF SHALL END AND DARKNESS PREVAIL."**

All arguments which had been made, and dismissed by the First Ones. "We know. It was what he was created to do. He was a weapon we found could not be controlled. He must be dealt with decisively. You of all should realize this."

"**SINCE THE DARK TIMES, I HAVE PROTECTED ALL OF CREATION BY IMPRISONING THIS ONE. A SINGLE MISTAKE CAN UNRAVEL ALL."**

"The Continuum realizes and appreciates this. The time, however, has come for the end. The danger has not been seen since his imprisonment. He is a relic of another time." He sighed. The Continuum itself depended on harmony, on the consensus of billions of minds. For the first time in his long life, he found himself hesitant to obey. "Let him go."

"**I HAVE HELD HIM FOR TWICE TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND YEARS,"** The Guardian spoke, it's resonant voice tinged with regret, and a hint of fear, **"AND NOW, I RELINQUISH MY CHARGE."**

Q stepped forward as the mists of time flowed like quicksilver around the Guardian, millions of eras and images coalescing faster than even his immortal eye could see. The swirling colours darkening to a never-ending pool of blood red, and within that pool...

Appolyon. The Destroyer.

A member of the Q from the dawn of the Continuum, changed and shifted on a deep level to fight against an almost forgotten enemy. Given power over creation itself, the abilities of every member of his race magnified a million fold within him. For a time, he had been their final hope in a war so terrible that the destruction of the entire Multiverse had been deemed preferable to defeat, but as the war drew to a close, the First Ones had realized their mistake.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Appolyon had been a moral pillar of the Continuum, one of the greatest minds and philosophers the fledgling Q had known. The power required of this weapon required a mind capable of controlling it, and a being possessed of the compassion not to use it. Appolyon had been the only choice, and so they had changed him. Made a demigod into a god. In the beginning, none saw the danger. None saw the problems which would arise as Appolyon used his power to create or to destroy. He was, after all, one of them. It was only near the end that the danger became apparent, as they realized that he was no longer the Q they had chosen. He had become power-hungry, destroying entire universes on a whim, claiming that they might someday become a threat to the Continuum. As the first war ended without needing the weapon they had created, the First Ones turned on that very same weapon, launching a war on one of their own. In the end, as the dead Q littered the universe, they succeeded in draining most of his power and imprisoning him within the Guardian of Forever. Since then, he had lain outside of time and space, awaiting judgment.

Judgment which had now come.

_-_

_Cold._

_So cold._

_So weak._

_Why?_

_It hurts. The sand hurts my feet._

_Sand?_

_I can feel sand under my feet._

_I can feel wind on my face._

_My God. I can feel again. I can feel more than just the cold._

_-_

Q stood above the huddled form of Appolyon as the ancient being rocked himself in a foetal position on the ground. For a moment, he felt pity for the creature in front of him. Locked away in nothingness for four hundred thousand years, separated from everything you knew, what would that do to a person?

Physically, Appolyon resembled nothing more than a hunched old man, the skin drawn taught against the outline of the bones, dark hollows framing clouded eyes that looked out at the desolate world around them in fascination and wonder. Wisps of white hair clung to the wizened scalp and floated in the breeze. Claw like fingers scraped at the ground, welcoming the rough touch of the gravel.

Spiritually, he felt much the same. Gone was the powerful and dangerous weapon the Q had created. Gone was the great and noble mind that they had twisted. It was all gone, leaving behind a blank slate and broken mind.

A moment of pity, broken by the memories of the dead and dying Q as the god Appolyon wreaked judgment on the Multiverse. Q's jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed.

_-_

_I can see again. Colours, lights, more than just darkness._

_The gravel on my fingertips is rough to the touch. It hurts, but it's touch. More than just cold numbness._

_The smell. It's about to rain. _

_A storm is coming._

_What is that?_

_I can hear something._

_-_

"Get up."

Q looked down at the huddling creature on the ground. The only reaction was Appolyon's gaze, which lifted up to look at him in wonder. The glazed eyes struggled to focus on his features as Appolyon rose on weakened muscles to his knees.

"The Continuum has decided that the time has come for you to face judgment for your crimes." Q recited the words as the First Ones had recited them to him. The words were important, they claimed. The words were warning, more warning than he had given to the billions he had killed.

One must always prove oneself to be better than one's enemy, and one must never show fear.

_-_

_I can hear a voice. It's been so long._

_It's hard to understand what is being said._

_Think. What words?_

_Time._

_Continuum._

_Crimes._

_Judgement._

_Decided._

_I know those words. Words..._

_And a name._

_Continuum._

_I know that name._

_-_

"Continuum..."

The voice was raspy and hoarse, a mere shadow of the rich and melodic tones Appolyon had once been known for. The word itself was spoken hesitantly, as though it had been a long-fought battle just to allow those four syllables to escape through parched lips. Inwardly, Q was surprised. He had expected a blank mind, one incapable of forming thought, let alone words. The question, though, was whether or not Appolyon was truly thinking on his own, or was he merely repeating sounds like a child?

For all their vaunted omniscience, the Q had never faced a situation like this. They had, of course, imprisoned or outright executed members of the Continuum before, some had even been stripped of their powers as punishment, but never before had they faced a Q imprisoned so long. The consequences of such a long interment were unknown. Q frowned, the knots of terror deep within him growing greater with every passing moment. _Three hundred years addled Q's mind, _he thought, remembering another imprisoned Q who had eventually committed suicide, _what's four hundred millennia done to yours?_ The old man continued to gaze up at him in wonder, tinted with confusion. The strange situation was beginning to grate on Q's nerves. He wanted nothing more than to finish this entire affair and return to his life. This was beginning to take too long. Just end it. Get it over with.

"I said, get up, old man!" Rising panic and desperation drove Q to reach over and grab Appolyon by the frail arm.

A spark of energy passed between them at the touch.

_-_

_I am Appolyon._

_They are the Continuum._

_What..._

_What have they done to me?_

_WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO ME!_

_-_

The wonder was gone.

As was the confusion.

The terror burst from it's confines as Q stared, horrified, into eyes that very nearly shone with steely hatred. Cold, unforgiving eyes, that promised uncountable unpleasant ways to die. Faster than even his immortal eyes could see, the frail arm struck out and grasped his own, holding it in a grip which could have crushed planets, and probably had.

Appolyon rose to his feet, no longer struggling. The ancient and withered demeanour was gone, replaced by a regal bearing which would have brought emperors to their knees in deference. He was clad only in scraps of clothing, but nothing detracted from the power emanating from him now. They could just as easily been the finest clothes in all of the Multiverse's history.

"Do not presume to tell me what to do." Gone too was the hoarse and hesitant voice, replaced with the depth and power he had always been known for, the voice which still haunted the nightmares of every member of the Continuum. Q shook in terror, no longer hiding the blind fear clutching at his consciousness. He knew he was in the presence of a god.

And that god was angry.

"I was there at the beginning of history, and I will be there to watch as the Multiverse collapses into ashes." He leaned forward and stared into Q's eyes, and Q swore that he could see all of history in their black depths.

Energy crackled around Appolyon's hand, the pain of which sent Q falling to his knees, screaming in agony. Where Appolyon's fingers touched his skin, it felt like ice was creeping into his very being, reaching through him, searching for something. He was so cold, he forgot everything else. The Continuum, Appolyon, everything. All there was was the intense, ever present, overriding, _cold._

Suddenly, he could feel something different. Whatever the cold had been searching for, it had been found. Something was being taken from him. Something deep within.

Roughly, Appolyon pushed him away, releasing his arm and sending him sprawling to the ground in a twisted heap. Lying there before the Guardian of Forever, he shivered as he stared at his arm and watched it wither away to a shadow of it's former self. Raising talon-like fingers to his face, he felt at his skin. Shrivelled away, like his hands, to nothing but skin over bone. Panic stricken, Q willed himself back to health.

Nothing happened.

His breath was coming in quick bursts as he tried again.

Still nothing.

_Breath?_

He was breathing, like a mortal.

Like a human.

Gasping, he raised his eyes to Appolyon and watched in horror as the frail old body changed. Muscle mass grew beneath the skin, the hunched back straightened, the eyes cleared to a shining green and the wisps of white hair darkened to black and multiplied until Appolyon's face was framed in dark locks. Q gasped in shock, feeling his lungs struggle to keep him alive.

Appolyon had become him.

The spitting image, no, more than that. Appolyon had adopted his body and taken his power. He was him.

Appolyon flexed his fingers, making a fist and releasing it. He smiled, chuckling to himself as he ran a hand through his hair. Almost as if he realized that he had forgotten Q, he looked down at the withered being at his feet.

"I just need the power to do it."

Q grasped at the dirt, as he had watched Appolyon do mere moments before. His sight was fading, and he could taste blood every time he took a breath. He had to reach Appolyon, had to stop him.

Appolyon continued as if he wasn't aware of Q's feeble efforts below him. "The Continuum seems to have grown rather complacent and overconfident. The First Ones at least should have known better than to send only one of you to get me. I am assuming that it was the First Ones who sent you?" He looked down as if he were expecting an answer. When all he saw was a near corpse crawling along the ground, approaching death faster than it was approaching anything else, he sighed. "Of course it would be the First Ones. Who else could it be?"

Q could feel time running out. He could no longer see, and all he could feel was the cold grip of death around him.

"They'll know... what you've… done to me. The Continuum… will stop you."

Appolyon stopped and knelt before him. "How?

"I am you."

With a final gasp, Q felt his lungs collapse and the darkness claimed him.

_-_

Rising to his feet, Appolyon looked down at the pile of dust which had, moments earlier, been a member of the great and vaunted Q Continuum. A race of god-like beings who claimed the power to control the Universe.

A race which would destroy the mind and soul of a member of their own kind and then imprison him for four hundred thousand years. They were really no better than animals, and they were supposedly the greatest of all races.

_It would be a favour to the Universe to put an end to them all._

Turning away, he took a step towards the edge of the plain, gathering his power around him like a cloak. As the darkness surrounded him, he called back to the Guardian.

Back to his keeper.

"As for you, I have other things to deal with first. Oh, and don't bother trying to warn them that I'm coming."

The darkness vanished, taking the escaped Appolyon with it, but his final words echoed across the winds of Forever World, promising death and the end of history.

"They can't hear you."


	4. Forever in a Day, Chapter Three

**Forever in a Day, Chapter Three**  
**  
**_"Spock, I've found that evil usually triumphs... unless good is very, very careful."_

_-Leonard McCoy "The Omega Glory" _

_-_

Over the millennia, the Q Continuum has been many things to many people. In the beginning, after the period that was known as the Dark Times, life in the Continuum was exciting, being a Q was exciting. The Multiverse was young and new, creating a constant feeling of euphoric discovery for all who saw it. Some would see it as a book to be read, others as a never-ending road leading from one corner of existence to the other.

As time marched on, the discoveries became few and far between, euphoria faded to indifference, and the Q, who had once marvelled at the vastness of creation, grew cold and convinced of their own superiority. Life in the Continuum grew dull, the book gathering dust on the shelf, the road lying untravelled, it's destination reached many times before. Dialogue faded to silence, and each Q struck off on their own in an effort to alleviate the growing sense of uselessness. Most simply existed, casting an occasional eye at the Universe around them. Others found amusement in torturing the younger races who had not yet ascended to the godhood the Q enjoyed, even though they referred to it as "playing". Some relinquished their powers and decided to live and die as mortals, while others had that decision forced upon them when their "play" grew out of hand.

Certain in their godhood, they began to forget the lessons of the past, to ignore the mistakes they had made in their youth. How is it possible for a God to make a mistake? They wondered. It's not possible for us to be wrong. We dealt with those petty annoyances long ago and they will never come back to haunt us. We are superior, we are the ultimate. We are the protectors of the Multiverse.

We are Gods.

We are forever.

Nothing is forever.

_-_

The sun had long since vanished over the horizon and the moon risen to prominence in the sky, it's waxing light shining on the darkened path as the hooded figure made his way towards the clearing. The trail had once been cleanly cut and defined, it's way marked for all who used it, but now the woods had begun to reclaim it, red, green and brown tendrils snaking across the dirt and rocks like living things. In the distance, barely visible over the tops of the trees, were the jagged peaks of fog enshrouded mountains.

The grimace on the figure's face spoke volumes about his opinions of current events within the Continuum. If asked, he could say with complete honesty that the execution of one of the First Ones was not high on his immortal existence's "To Do" list.

Not that anyone asked him, of course.

Clouded eyes darted over the clearing before him. Thousands of Q milled about an enormous bonfire in similarly hooded cloaks, an aura of restlessness in the air so palpable that he felt as though he could cut through it with a knife. It was foolishness, what the First Ones had planned. The execution of Appolyon, though so richly deserved, just begged for mistakes to be made, for horrors to ensue. According to the legends of the Continuum, the First Ones had been given the task of safeguarding the Multiverse by the Creators themselves. It was only their existence that held all of creation together, a precariously balanced house of cards.

Appolyon had once been the most powerful of the First Ones. Even weakened after four hundred thousand years of imprisonment, what effect would his death have on space and time?

Stepping from the shadows of the forest, he approached two other Q who stood staring off into the darkness. Both turned and grasped his hand in greeting, firm grips betraying nothing of the fear in their eyes.

"Q. It's been too long." The first, in the guise of a dark haired Romulan, said.

The second, a bald and dark eyed Deltan, chuckled. "Only two or three hundred years. You know, since that thing."

"The thing? Oh. The Thing. You remember the Thing, don't you, Q?"

Q frowned, the good cheer of his old friends failing to create even the hint of a smile in his eyes. "Foolishness." He muttered, "This entire affair is utter foolishness."

The Romulan smiled. "Learning to be subtle in your old age, Q? You used to be so much more blunt than this."

"Laugh if you will, Q. This entire masquerade that the First Ones have concocted… it merely hides the truth behind the glamour of a lie."

"And what truth is that?"

"That they are more afraid of him than they care to admit. That they believe that they will fail. That they hold our lives cheaply and that we are nothing more to them than shields. Take your pick."

The smiles dropped from their faces as concern etched it's way across their eyes. The atmosphere of levity which had permeated their corner of the Continuum only seconds before vanished. "What do you mean, 'shields'?"

Q grunted as he watched a bird fly over the treetops, it's shrill cry splitting the night air. "Immortal shields. Don't tell me that you haven't thought it. If he does actually manage to escape, they're betting that we would be able to stop him before he reaches them."

"That's ridiculous. They know that we wouldn't be able to stand against him. We all remember the Dark Times."

"Then why summon us all here? They don't need us for the execution."

"That doesn't mean that we're being used as shields. You know what they say: Hope for the best, plan for the worst."

For the first time since arriving, Q actually felt a smile tug at a corner of his mouth. "For a Romulan, you've picked up some interesting Human sayings."

There was the sound very much like the clearing of a throat, and both turned to their Deltan companion. He had pulled his hood back, leaving his bald head exposed to the night sky. "I think that we're all here." His voice was low, barely audible to the others. His eyes glinted uneasily in the light of the moon, desperately searching for a way to change the subject. "We should join the others."

The three ancient friends moved away from the edge of the forest towards the rest of the Continuum gathering around the bonfire. Just before they reached the others, a strange feeling gripped Q, causing him to stumble and look around. He saw nothing but darkness in the woods, impenetrable even to his eyes. He crossed his arms across his chest, trying to dispel the sense of foreboding which had come over him. It was only when he turned back, that he noticed something. "Where's Q?" The failure of one of his other old friends to appear only served to intensify the uneasy feeling.

The others looked around and shrugged. "Q? Probably just late as usual. Why?"

Q shook his head. "Probably just nothing. I think that the Humans call it 'someone walking over my grave'." He shivered, cold even with his proximity to the fire, which leapt and spat before him like a living thing. "Never mind me." Striding past his friends, he joined the others, ignoring the only warning that the Universe was prepared to give.

_-_

Appolyon stood in the shadows of the forest, hidden from view by the towering copse of trees, watching as the Q turned around and joined the rest. It had taken the patience born of four hundred thousand years of imprisonment to keep himself from reaching out and killing the unsuspecting creature right then and there. He could feel the life force emanating from the thousands of Q before him, all milling about like sheep fit for the slaughter. All it would take would be a single moment…

_What am I thinking?_

The thought came to him unbidden, unwanted.

_These are my people. Some have done me wrong, yes, but not all. Some of them were not even there when I was imprisoned._

Appolyon rubbed the palm of his hand hard against his temple, running his fingers through the mop of dark hair he had adopted. It was getting hard for him to think. Things had been so clear earlier. When had this fog appeared in his mind? Was it even a fog?

Or was the fog lifting?

It was so hard to tell. It was so hard to think. The confusion was coming back, eating away at his mind bit by bit. He had been warm for a few moments, but the cold was beginning to seep through him once more. He wanted to be warm again. He needed to be warm again.

_They should be cold for once._

Yes. Yes, make them feel the cold. Make them pay for what they had done to him.

_Destroy them all._

Yes.

The hand stopped it's rubbing and dropped to his side, and a grin twitched on his face.

Destroy them all.

And then maybe he would be warm.

_-_

The Q Continuum had gathered together for the first time in millennia, and for the first time they had gathered to sentence a First One to death.

While most of the Continuum were enamoured of flashy entrances and theatrical displays of the trappings of power, the First Ones disdained such things. One moment they were not there, the next…

They simply were.

There had been no warning, no flash of light, no booming voices, not even the soft chirp of a cricket. The Q turned to see seven figures in white robes appear amongst the black worn by the younger Q. These were the First Ones, the most powerful beings in existence, the ones who held Creation in their very hands. Out of respect, and healthy fear, the Q backed away from the Seven, forming a circle around the bonfire, with the First Ones in the centre.

No one spoke. The only sound that could be heard was the snapping of the fire before them all. The seven white hoods framed black pits where faces should be. None of the Q could remember ever seeing one of the First Ones since the Dark Times, when they had simply faded from view. Until the summons to this council had come, many had believed the First Ones dead hundreds of millennia ago. What had become of them, what they looked like now, none could say.

Movement flickered at the edge of the forest. As one, the Continuum turned to greet this new arrival. A dark haired man emerged from the woods, his cowl lowered and leaving his head free of its confines. A trim black goatee framed his chin.

Q, the man sent to reclaim Appolyon from the Guardian of Forever, had returned.

Alone.

He approached slowly, foot before steady foot, until he stood before the gathered might of the Continuum, cold blue eyes scanning their faces. His mouth set in a severe line, he turned his gaze to the seven white figures at the circle's centre.

Covered heads turned to each other, consulting for a long moment as nervous mutters began to rise from the younger Q. Ponderously, they turned to regard him once more. And then they spoke.

It was as though the Multiverse itself spoke. Deep and sepulchral, the words sounded from everywhere at once, without and within.

"Q. You were given the task of retrieving Appolyon from the Guardian of Forever."

"So I was."

"And yet you return to this conclave alone."

"So I do."

"Are you willing to face judgment of your own for failing in this task?"

"So I will."

The fire burned higher, and several of the Q backed away from the heat. The First Ones made no movement, but a strong feeling of irritation began to emanate from them.

"Now is not the time for word games, Q." The voice had become deeper, more resonant, and tinged with anger. "Appolyon must face judgment for his crimes. Where is he?"

A small smile began to tug at a corner of the goatee. A hand waved the question off. "He has already faced judgment, and paid it."

Nervous murmurs began to rise among the Q, and they shifted uncomfortably, shying away from the confrontation. The First Ones took a menacing step forward. "You killed him?"

Q laughed, the sound sending cold shivers down the spines of all who heard it. The fire flickered. "No. No, Appolyon is quite alive."

The white robes began to back away, an uneasy feeling seeming to come over them. When the voice spoke again, it was hesitant. "Then how has he paid for his crimes?"

"For his crimes?" The smile vanished, and Q took a step forward. Lightning seemed to flash in his eyes as he glared at the First Ones. "I never said he paid for his crimes. I said that he faced judgment and paid. Four hundred thousand years in cold, empty oblivion, with nothing left him but the faces and the screams of the dying and the Damned."

The forest could no longer be seen through the rising darkness, and the fire seemed to be growing dimmer and colder. Power so strong that it filled the air smothered the Q, an aura of icy fury let loose from its confines and left to attack those who had wronged it.

"I have faced your judgment, and I have paid the price for my failure."

Appolyon, the Destroyer, had returned to the Continuum.

_-_

His name was Q, but he had long preferred to go by the name of Qu'aal. At one time, he had traveled this Universe with the Iconians, a race he had come to respect and admire for their culture and poetry, though few others could understand either. Even creatures believed to be demons had their own art.

He had played Horatio alongside William Shakespeare's Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; Stood beside the First Emperor of the Tkon Empire as he broke down the doors of the Great Council, and even watched as the asteroid ship _Yonada_ was launched mere minutes before the supernova claimed its homeworld of Fabrini.

Hundreds of thousands of years of living history. He had seen so much, rejoiced as empires rose and fell, and wept at the soft sound of a single man's dying breath.

He was the first to fall, but far from the last.

_-_

They leapt at him as one, all of the younger Q, ignorant of his power, believing that they could defeat him with pure numbers and strength, each wanting to be the one to say that he overwhelmed the mighty Appolyon.

One fell before him.

Two fell before him.

The dark form at the centre of the battle laughed joyously as he cut a path through them, spinning and twisting to meet every new attack. The dark robe flew out behind him, a black cloud which swept over the bodies of his victims. He had become the battle. He had become death itself.

Three fell before him.

And four, and five…

_-_

The First Ones watched it happen.

There was nothing else they could do. Appolyon had somehow managed to prevent them from escaping. They tried to vanish somewhere safe, but it was as though they had been locked in this forest clearing which had, up until seconds ago, been their creation.

They were forced to watch as he massacred their children, absorbing their power and leaving only bodies in his wake. The bonfire, which had burned brightly only moments before, now flickered and fought for life as the Continuum died.

It seemed to be over in seconds. What had once been the greatest civilization in existence, was now reduced to little more than a group of emaciated corpses lying strewn about a field, surrounding a small group being confronted by their greatest mistake.

Appolyon stood before them, eyes burning and mouth set in a grim line. The rush of the battle had left him, leaving only the cold anger behind. Imperiously, he waved his hand and they watched as the illusions they had created melted away. The clearing vanished, replaced by a black expanse, and the robes dissolved, leaving behind seven men and women in rags and chains.

The bodies, however, remained.

They stared at Appolyon, as he leaned back into a chair which had appeared out of nowhere. He steepled his fingers, and watched them from behind hooded eyes.

"I had almost forgotten what you looked like."

As one, they looked at each other, and then back at him. Pleading would get them nowhere now, not after all of the power he had just taken.

"Don't get me wrong, though. I don't mean these bodies we assume. Those can change like the wind, can't they?" A flick of the wrist, and they became crying infants on the ground, helpless. Another, and they returned to their previous appearance, and yet, still just as helpless.

"I mean what you really look like. Your souls, so to speak, though sometimes I wonder if you actually have them. A creature with a soul wouldn't have forced a friend to become a weapon against his will. A creature with a soul wouldn't have turned on that friend when that weapon was no longer needed. A creature with a soul wouldn't have locked a friend away in a hell for four hundred thousand years while you wondered what to do with him!" He drew a shaky breath, calming himself. "Do you know what my prison was like? Did you even care? It was nothing. Literally, nothing. No air. No vacuum. No light. No dark. It was just… nothing. Nothing but the cold. Bone chilling, soul destroying cold. Like being trapped in ice for eternity. You lie there and you can feel it becoming a part of you, replacing everything that was there before, until everything you were is gone and all that's left is the cold. The cold and the screams." He shivered at the memory. "Screams in the darkness." He shook his head, and rubbed at his temple. "But that's besides the point now. Now, it's my turn to pass judgment on you."

"Today, is the first day of oblivion."

_-_

The planet was dry and arid, sand scratching across Caeric-Mal's skin every time he moved. Not that bothered him, being an archaeologist he was used to sand and grit. It was the heat that bothered him. Sarthong V's double suns beat down on him from their midday points, causing his red skin to break out into a sweat. Sweat which dripped into his segmented eyes, stinging a million times for a million small eyes. So this was why his people avoided deserts. Not because of the heat, not because of the sand, but because of the incredibly annoying and painful sweat.

Of course, nothing could possibly have kept him from this dig. It had taken almost a thousand years, but the Federation Council (bless their multitude of hearts and other circulatory organs) had finally convinced the people of this world to allow off-worlders to examine the incredible ruins on their planet. For centuries, archaeologists across the galaxy had wondered what was left behind on this world. Now, he would be the first to find out.

Granted, if he heard the phrase "At least it's a dry heat" one more time, he would scream until his lungs burst.

"Boss!"

He frowned, annoyed at the interruption. Sighing, he responded without even looking over his shoulder. "What is it, Michael? I'm busy right now."

"Boss, this is important!"

A angry breath shot from his nostrils. Mentally ripping his apprentice limb from limb, he stood and turned around. "What is so impor…" the word hung in midair.

The suns were growing.

No. Growing was the wrong word. The suns were exploding.

"What in the eight hells…?"

No one ever discovered what lay beneath the sands of Sarthong V, since the entire solar system was destroyed seconds later as the stars went nova.

_-_

Appolyon looked at the still corpse hanging from his fingertips. The cold had retreated for a moment, leaving behind a euphoric warmth as the power of the First Ones began to course through him. He smiled down at the six cowering others and smiled.

One down.


	5. Forever in a Day, Chapter Four

**Forever In A Day, Chapter Four**

_"The way I see it, people are either meant to be together or they're not"_

Kira Nerys, _"Children of Time"_

* * *

"Bad day. Very bad day…"

The thought bounced around in Alex Carver's head as he desperately tried to juggle the seven computer PADDs he held awkwardly in his hands, while walking down the hall to his third-year Astrophysics class. He was already late, which meant the corridors of Starfleet Academy were next to empty, making it slightly easier on him to navigate without watching where he was going. Of course, it also meant that he was going to be in a fair bit of trouble when he finally did make it to class.

It would have been so much simpler if he'd brought his book satchel, but no, he'd lost it last night after the party. Why did he let Jason talk him into it? Why did he always let Jason talk him into these things? He should've been studying. Now, he had the world's worst hangover and he was late and he had to carry the entire day's course load from class to class in his arms and...

He never even saw the younger cadet come racing around the corner and he never saw her crash into him. All he saw was his day's class work go flying into the air and scatter across the hall.

At about the same time, he realized that he was flying through the air.

The head-on collision with the wall came soon after.

The already horrid headache from the hangover exploded into a full-on migraine as the back of his head struck the wall, causing stars to dance in front of his eyes. Wincing, he shut his eyes against the sudden glare and moaned. Oh just let me die now...

"I am so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going and I was in a hurry and I'm SO sorry and it'll never happen again..." The other cadet scrambled to her feet from where she had fallen a few feet away. Alex lifted a hand, still not seeing clearly, and she stopped talking.

"It's okay. I wasn't watching either. So as long as we both pay attention from now on, we'll be fine." Groaning, he got to his knees and started to collect his PADDs. Piling them up one by one, he counted. "Five, six... I'm missing one. Where is it?"

"Is this it?"

Looking up, he saw her for the first time. Dark brown hair fell down to the middle of her back, framing an olive skinned face with brown eyes that had just the slightest almond shape. She seemed to be no more than a year or two younger than his twenty-two years, probably a first year cadet. She was crouched a couple of feet away, holding something in her hand. "What?"

She smiled, and Alex felt his heart stop. "Your missing PADD? Is this it?"

Alex focused on the object in her hand. Sure enough, there was his computer. "Yeah. Uh, yeah, that's mine. Thanks." Reaching out he took it from her and watched her stand up.

"I'm really sorry. I promise it won't happen again."

Alex rose to his feet, again struggling to balance his work in his arms. "Don't worry about it. Happens to everyone around here sooner or later." She smiled again. She seemed to do that so easily...

"Thanks. You took a pretty nasty fall there, do you need anything else?"

"No. No thanks. I've got to get to class." She nodded and started walking away. When she reached the corner, she turned to toss off another "Sorry" and was gone, leaving him standing alone in the hall.

It took him a week to learn her name was Selene Weller.

But it took him four months to ask her out.

* * *

The ocean winds blew gently across the rose garden, mixing the smell of sea salt with the heady scent of the flowers that grew in a semi-circle around the veranda. The midday sun beat down on the manicured lawn, dancing through the branches of the surrounding evergreen trees. 

The University of British Columbia's Rose Garden lay on a plateau of about a hundred meters square, overlooking English Bay and, beyond that, North Vancouver and the Rocky Mountains. It was a view which Lieutenant Alex Carver had seen dozens of times before, but which he failed to notice this time.

His black and gold dress uniform itched, thousands of stiff threads chafing his skin like some form of ancient torture, and the high collar with lieutenant's pips cut into his throat, making it difficult to breathe. Not that he seemed to be in danger of doing much of that. His breath was coming in short gasps, his lungs feeling as though he had run a ten-kilometre marathon while his stomach seemed to have become home to an entire brood of butterflies. His fingers twitched without stop at his sides, completely independent of his control. His eyes darted back and forth over the crowd gathered before him, watching each of them shift slowly in their seats. Time had slowed down to a crawl, and he could feel each second pass by like a lifetime.

"Do you, Alexander Carver, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

It was the happiest day of his life.

Selene was as beautiful now as she had been the day she'd knocked him flying in the hall. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, and her brown hair pooled down over the white dress that she wore instead of her red and black ensign's uniform. It was tradition, she'd said, and she was going to wear her mother's wedding dress. That was that, and who was he to argue? "I do."

Was there any other answer?

"And do you, Selene Weller, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do." She smiled as she said it, that smile of hers which always seemed to be sitting just below the surface. He looked down at her hands, and saw that her long fingers were nervously drumming a staccato beat against her side, just like his. Reaching over, he took her hands, stopping both sets of fingers.

The rest of ceremony blurred by him. He repeated what he was asked to repeat, and he did what he was asked to do. Later on, he would have vague memories of placing the ring on her finger, but nothing else beyond her face. He almost missed it when he was told that he could kiss the bride.

Almost. The sad part was, he didn't even have any clear memories of that, either.

A hand clasped his shoulder from behind, spinning him around. Jason Madden stood there, his face split in a wide grin and green eyes glowing mischievously, and enveloped him in an enormous hug. "Well, it's about time!" Alex clasped his best man and oldest friend tightly, the slight southern drawl of his friend's voice guiding him back to the world. "Thanks, Jason."

They heard a throat being cleared behind them and turned to see Selene, hands on her white-clad hips, a look of playful anger on her face. "Um, excuse me, boys, but can I have my husband back?"

Jason laughed, and slapped Alex on the back. "Go on. I'll meet you at the reception."

Alex reached over and took Selene's hand as they almost ran back up the aisle. With his back turned, he never saw the smile vanish from Jason's face, or the bitterness that replaced it.

* * *

The smile never faded from her face as he took her by the hand and led her out onto the dance floor. The band had begun to play in the background, an ancient Earth song that gently rolled over the assembled guests like a soft breeze. Turning to face each other, illuminated by the soft light of the candles in the room, they began to dance. 

She laughed as they watched their parents follow their lead, and he looked around and saw Jason dancing with his date. In seconds, the dance floor was full of spinning couples. Looking back at Selene, he spun her slowly around, and smiled as she laughed even harder. Her brown hair shone as it whirled around her face, concealing her eyes for a split second. As their fingers intertwined, he looked over and saw the gold ring glittering on her finger. On a sudden urge, he leaned forward and softly kissed her.

It was only when he opened his eyes that he noticed that the candlelight in the room was getting brighter and beginning to hurt his eyes. Looking around, he saw the other couples dancing, but they were vague, indistinct, as though he was looking at them through a thick pane of glass. The only thing left in the room in perfect focus was Selene herself, and she laughed as though nothing was wrong. The feeling of her hand in his, so warm only seconds ago, now felt dull, leaden. The music was muffled, echoing in his ears.

The light was growing brighter and brighter, blinding him and drowning out all details of the room. Soon, the only thing he could see aside from the field of white was Selene, her brown eyes laughing as she spun away from him and into the haze. All alone, he hung there, surrounded by nothingness, silence ringing in his ears.

The white exploded away from him as the world painfully snapped back into focus. The reception hall was gone, replaced by a dark and dingy hallway, debris scattered across the floor. A deep red light seemed to pulse around him, deepening the shadows and creating a blood red atmosphere. The music was gone, replaced by screams and the sound of weapons fire. The only thing that remained was Selene.

Gone was the white dress, replaced with a formfitting black jumpsuit and tattered leather jacket. In her hands, she held a bulky old style phaser, eyes narrowed in concentration as she fired off shot after shot down the corridor. Her brown hair was cut to her shoulders, spiked and mussed as though she hadn't had time to care for it. Looking down at himself, he saw that his dress uniform was gone. A leather duster now hung over black pants and a torn black shirt. Around his waist, he wore a holster, holding a phaser similar to the one Selene was wielding. His hands were wrist deep into an open circuit panel filled with systems that had to be centuries old at least. He seemed to have no control over his body as his fingers danced across the panel.

The red glow cast demonic shadows across Selene's face as she fired shot after shot. "Excuse me, Carver? I hate to interrupt your concentration, but if you don't hurry up, _we're both gonna die!_"

He felt his lips curve upwards into a sarcastic sneer as he snapped back at her. "Would you rather I blow this place up? No? Then let me work!"

"If you don't hurry up, I'll point this thing at…" Her words were cut off abruptly with a dull thud. He spun around just in time to watch Selene stumble, dropping the phaser as she pitched over backwards with a bladed disc sunk deep into her chest.

"No!" He screamed and raced over to catch her, pulling his own phaser from it's holster as he ran. He never even had the chance to pull the trigger before something struck him in the side, sending him sprawling across the floor.

He lay there, gasping, as a dark silhouette, backlit by the red glow of the emergency lights, stood over him. Silent, it lifted a curved blade over it's head, preparing for the killing stroke. The last thing he saw as the blade fell was the figure's eyes.

Blue, lifeless and cold.

* * *

Alex Carver bolted to a sitting position, eyes wide with panic and sweat-dampened sheets twisted around his legs. His heart pounded against his ribcage as his lungs gasped in deep mouthfuls of air. 

A nightmare. That's all. Just another nightmare.

Running his fingers through his soaked hair, he looked over his shoulder at the figure beside him. Sleeping peacefully beside him in their shared quarters aboard the bioship Albion, brown hair mussed against the pillow, was Selene Carver. His wife.

For a split-second, a twinge of jealousy overcame him. Why was it that she could sleep through the night while he couldn't? The answer came to him immediately after, replacing the jealousy with a wave of guilt. Because he had the nightmares every night, and she had simply become used to them.

Sighing, he placed his aching head in his hands. He had suffered the nightmares for as long as he could remember, often waking his parents with his screams. At first, they had been vague feelings of terror, of being hunted, but nothing more than that.

As he had grown older, they had grown more detailed. Within a few years, he could see the figure above him. A few years after that, the darkened hallways, but always leaving behind the feeling of being chased.

Gently untangling the sheets from around his knees, he stepped out of bed and made his way to the nearest window. Leaning against a support post, he crossed his arms and looked out at the planet far beneath the ship. With a casual thought, he checked the time. The nanites congregated at the base of his brainstem contained the complete Starfleet database, a simple request like the time was answered nearly instantly. 01:32. Middle of the ship's night. Usually, the feeling of being hunted faded with the nightmare, but tonight, it was lingering. His legs itched to move, to run.

A touch on his shoulder made him jump and spin around, his leg striking the support column. Behind him, Selene took a step back, dark eyes concerned. "Sorry. I thought you'd heard me."

"That's okay." Moaning, he rubbed his temples with the palms of his hands. "I'm just a little jumpy, that's all."

"Another one?"

"Yeah." He laughed under his breath, "You slept through this one, though. Nice to know that you're getting used to it."

Sitting down on the bed, she smiled up at him. "After seven years of sleeping in the same bed, I better be." She frowned, "It was bad, though, wasn't it?"

"What makes you say that?"

"The fact that you're up and out of bed. Usually you at least try to go back to sleep before getting up."

Sighing, he slumped down beside her. "You know me too well."

"I'm your wife, I should." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "You want to talk about it?"

Alex shook his head, "It was the same one as always, just a lot clearer than usual, that's all. I'll be fine. You should go back to bed."

"Liar."

"Maybe so, but just because I'm awake doesn't mean you have to be. You're on duty in three hours, you need sleep."

"So are you, and I'll stay up until you go to bed." Lying down, a glazed look came over her face for a second as she linked with her nanites and started to work. He could almost see text ghosting across her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"If I'm going to be up, I'm going to get some work done."

Chuckling, he lay down beside her. "Fine. I'm going to bed. Happy?"

A smile broke across her face as she shut down the link. "Yes. Good night."

"Good night."

Within minutes, she was asleep, head and shoulder burrowing into her pillow, snoring softly.

Alex, however, was still awake an hour and a half later when the ship bucked and he was tossed across the room.

* * *

He was the last of the First Ones, and he was about to meet his end. 

Appolyon stood before him, quicksilver power crackling over his form as he absorbed the energies of the other, now dead, First Ones. Onyx eyes burned and pitch black hair stood on end as the Destroyer looked down at him and smiled ferally, deep voice resounding through the empty space that had once held the Q. "On your feet, Abaddon."

"You would kill me, brother? As you killed the others? As you have killed countless billions by destroying the balance?"

"The balance is a myth. On your feet."

"You're wrong." Abaddon rose, his eyes never leaving the maddened gaze of his brother. "The balance is real. Look for yourself. We First Ones held the Multiverse in check, we have since you tried to destroy it so long ago. Do you see the darkness around us? The Multiverse is dying because of you! Infinite stars ripped apart as you killed the others. Only a handful of universes remain and they are quickly dying."

Appolyon turned his gaze to the outside, and saw only death, Abaddon could see it in his eyes, in the way his face fell in sadness. "I never meant…"

"I know, brother, I know. Yet you have." Abaddon stepped closer.

"It wasn't... it wasn't meant to be like this. I just wanted to be warm."

"We can still save what remains, Appolyon. It's not too late." He reached out, fingers softly glowing. He would only have a fraction of a second before Appolyon could react.

Appolyon had to die.

He took no pleasure from it. Appolyon was his brother, but to stabilize what was left of the Multiverse, Abaddon needed all of the power of the First Ones. Withdrawing the power from Appolyon would kill him, but should he live, what was left would continue to die.

So be it.

"It's not too late." Abaddon's hand rested on his brother's stooped shoulder. The soft glow on his fingers became a flash, and he was thrown backwards.

Appolyon whirled, eyes blazing in hatred. "You betray me again! I was a fool to trust you, brother!" The word was spat out between clenched teeth, his hatred plain. "It was your vote that gave made me what I am."

A steel grip seized Abaddon's neck and lifted him into the air.

"Your vote that cast me into Hell."

Tendrils of cold seeped through Appolyon's fingertips, wrapping serpentine coils around his very core.

"If it meant killing you, I would rip apart the very Multiverse with my bare hands."

Abaddon began to wither away, feeling another star implode with each passing second. He could hear the voices of the dying, souls crying for justice. Justice he could not provide.

"I may be Destroyer, but you are Betrayer."

I'll see you soon.

The single voice rose above the whisper of the others, soft and whispered in his ear as his vision swam. A woman's voice, words exhaled on a dying breath.

I love you.Abaddon opened his mouth and screamed, the sound of a heart breaking ripping from the depths of his soul as a connection formed, suddenly and unexpectedly, between himself and a distant human.

"NO!"

He and Appolyon were hurled apart as the icy tendrils linking them explosively shattered. Abaddon, body twisted and gnarled, trapped somewhere between God and mortal, shivered on the ground as Appolyon lifted himself to his knees. "What…?"

Panicked and weakened, not knowing, not caring, where it had come from, Abaddon grasped this newfound connection and pulled himself along it, vanishing from the desiccated remains of the Q Continuum and hiding deep within the human's battered psyche. Even though he was wracked with pain, and the Human's body was crushed and failing, he smiled to himself. There were other ways to stop his crazed sibling before the Multiverse collapsed. He would hide in the body of this Human long enough to recover, and then he would continue the fight.

Not yet, he thought to himself.

It is not over yet.

Alone except for his host, invisible to Appolyon's eyes, he begins to heal.


	6. To Stand on the Edge of Forever, Ch 1

**To Stand on the Edge of Forever, Chapter One  
**

"_My people have a saying. 'One Man Can Summon the Future.'  
But what happens if that man dies before his time?"_

_-Commander T'Pol "United"_

* * *

Betrayed by his own broken and bleeding body, trapped in his own mind, Alex Carver hangs in darkness.

He feels the pain of broken ribs stabbing him in the chest, shards of bone grating against his organs. Beyond that, the dull ache of the internal bleeding that slowly fills his body with blood. Yet above all else lies the shifting maelstrom of emotions that burn and roil.

Incapable of moving, every sense still reports to his brain.

He had heard the explosion that had thrown him across his bedroom, bulkheads tearing around him as his body shattered. Blinded, he had heard the support strut above him give way and felt the impact as it fell on him. He could taste the blood that specked his lips, smelling it's coppery tang.

Now, he hears Selene calling him, her voice weak and frail, a far cry from the joking tone she had possessed earlier.

_Alex..._

Unable to speak, he lies there, silent and still.

_Can you hear me? Alex, don't leave me... please._

She coughs, a wet, hacking sound, grunting as she pulls herself towards him. Feeling the soft touch of her hand on his, he tries to respond, but fails.

_I can feel your pulse, Alex. You're still there, I know it. Please say something. Let me know you can hear me._

Silence. Deathly, damning silence. He can hear her sob.

_Oh, God, Alex. Are you even in there anymore? _He can hear her crying, punctuated by sharp gasps of pain that tell him she is injured, and he struggles against the mental chains binding him, desperate to move, to save her, to ease her pain. _Doesn't matter. The ship's in bad shape, Alex. The lights are out, and I can barely hear life support. It won't be long now._

They lay like this for a time, and he listens to her speak. Small remembrances of their lives together; stories she had told him thousands of times but which he cherishes all the more now because it means she's still there, that he is not alone.

After a time, her voice grows weaker, softer, the pauses between stories become longer. He throws himself against the walls of his dark prison, fighting to open his eyes, to help her, to scream at her to stay awake, to do something. He can feel her slowly shifting, pressing something into his palm.

_I'll see you soon._

No.

_I love you..._

No!

Betrayed by his own broken and bleeding body, trapped in his own mind, Alex Carver fills his dark prison with his screams.

* * *

The USS _Crichton_ approached the ruins of the Arneb system slowly, sensors reaching across the near empty space. Nearly three hours had passed since the distress signal had been received, the automated pulse crying for help in the night. On the bridge, Commander Jason Madden looked out at the expanse that had, until recently, been home to over seventeen billion sentients. Only a burned out star and chunks of rock remained, and somewhere within those rocks, a Federation starship in distress. 

This was the fourth signal they had responded to within the last five hours, in three separate solar systems, each one displaying the same characteristics. A stable star which had gone nova with no warning, devastating the entire system and killing billions. Across the Federation, similar events were being reported. Uncounted trillions were dead, with more casualties becoming known every minute. Starfleet was in a panic, it's starships rushing to and from each devastated system in an attempt to save as many lives as possible.

So far, the _Crichton_ had managed to save eighteen, eleven of whom were more than likely to die within the day. Some of the crew were beginning to whisper of Armageddon, of the End of Days, and though he had yet to say it out loud, he was beginning to agree with them.

"Positive contact!"

The shout was an explosion in the silence that had permeated the room, a sharp burst of sound that set everyone speaking at once. Sensors focused and the ship spun in her tracks and accelerated towards the source of the signal. Beside Jason, Captain Paul Devis stood, his tall and athletic frame towering over the rest of the crew, his deep voice refusing to be ignored. "Report!"

Ensign Chi'Thaihn concentrated on his sensor display, the swirling holographic codes shifting around him, constantly updating with new information. Antennae twitched above his mane of shock white hair as scanned the results. "Starfleet bioship, Sir. Appears to be the remains of a _Verne_ class cruiser. She's taken heavy damage all over. We should be approaching visual range within twenty seconds, Captain."

Jason frowned, hanging his head. The _Verne_ class cruisers were older ships, most having been in service for over thirty years, lacking the more powerful shielding newer bioships like his own _Crichton_ possessed. They would be lucky to find anyone alive.

There was more than that, though. Something about the _Verne_ class was itching at the back of his mind, a detail hovering at the border of recollection and just out of reach. What was it?

Chi'Thaihn's voice broke him out of his reverie. "Entering visual range, Sir. Feeding display to holo."

The bridge lights dimmed and a large holographic display shimmered into being. Before him now lay an asteroid field, which sensor codes marked as the remains of Arneb VI. A pang of sorrow shot through him at the notation. A population of nine and a half billion, all gone. It was wearing on the crew, all of this death. All of it unexplained. It wouldn't be too much longer before someone cracked under the pressure. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and his thumb, he wondered briefly if it would be him.

Opening his eyes again, he saw it. Chi'Thaihn had been right to call them the remains of the ship. Nearly unrecognizable chunks of debris floated among the wreckage of the devastated planet, burning plasma leaking from ruptured conduits as they spun slowly in space. Lights flickered within the brutalized pieces as independent power cells struggled to continue operating. His voice was a whisper as he looked over his shoulder at the Andorian ensign. "Life signs?"

Chi'Thaihn's lips were set in a grim line as he answered. "Three. Two Human and one Romulan. The Humans on this piece..." A large chunk was highlighted on the display, "... and the Romulan here." A second, smaller piece was illuminated.

Captain Devis turned to look at Jason. "Commander."

Jason nodded, familiar with what would come next after three previous rescues. Spinning on his heel, he made for the turbolift. "Security and Medical teams to shuttlebay two." Subspace would be heavily distorted in the wake of the disaster, it would be safer to take a shuttle than the transporter. The risk of losing a signal lock with the subspace transporter in the energy maelstrom that was the Arneb system was too great. A perfect lock at the time of energizing could be shifted in transport, leading to re-materialization inside a bulkhead, or, even worse, in a vacuum. A shuttlecraft had been deemed safer, even if it did consume more precious time.

At the door to the lift, he stopped, frozen in his tracks as the elusive detail about the _Verne_ class entered the forefront of his mind with brutal force. His voice shook as panic rose. "The ship. Do we know what ship it is?"

Chi'Thaihn consulted his display. "Transponder is weak but I believe that I can make it out. NCV-477924. USS _Albion._"

_Selene... Alex..._ Thoughts of his friends spurred him to motion and he ran from the bridge, heart pounding in his chest.

* * *

Crimson light spilled dully across the damaged corridor, casting deep shadows over the pressure-suited boarding party. Jason Madden stood before the others, readouts flashing across his retinas as the Starfleet-issue nanites embedded in his brainstem linked with his suit's sensors and fed the data directly into his brain. The nanites had been a gift of sorts from the Borg Co-operative upon joining the Federation several centuries back. They were injected into every Starfleet officer upon graduation from the Academy and allowed them to carry the Starfleet computer database with them at all times for easy access. Yet now, as he stared in shock at ruins of what had once been a Federation ship, he wished that they would be less thorough with their readouts. He didn't want to know the science of what had happened here, the sight was enough in his mind. Bodies lay strewn before him, resting where they had fallen when the ship had been damaged. 

_Not damaged, Jason, _he thought sourly to himself, _destroyed. Let's face it._

He looked back over his shoulder at the gaping hole his team had cut through the hull to gain access to the wreckage, and beyond that, their shuttlecraft.

Movement at his side drew Jason's attention as the boarding team's engineer discarded his helmet, nodding. "Atmosphere is thin, but breathable, Commander."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Shaking off his shock, he touched the side of his helmet, depressing the small touchpad just behind his ear. With a small whir of mechanics, the entire upper half of his suit retracted away from him, leaving only the jumpsuit that had been hidden beneath. Immediately, the smell of death assaulted him, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the acrid smoke of burnt circuits. Cautiously, he pushed an exposed plasma vein out of his way. The conduit pulsed slowly, still struggling to supply power to a slipstream core that was no longer there. A heart, still beating slowly as the body died. "Engineering team, see if you can salvage any sensor logs from the computer. Everyone else, see if you can find any survivors the _Crichton_ couldn't pick up. Everyone make sure that you're in constant contact. I don't want to lose anyone." Heads nodded all around and the team broke up down different corridors, leaving Jason and a medic to find the lifesigns which had been detected earlier.

It only took a few minutes to find the first. A human ensign about twenty, probably fresh from the Academy, lay barely conscious against the bulkhead, her head bleeding profusely from a laceration across her forehead. The medic immediately began to treat the wound, attempting to seal it with a dermal regenerator as Jason continued down the corridor towards the second survivor.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he made his way slowly down the hall, pushing debris out of his way, or climbing over it if it was too heavy to move. Lights flickered from burnt out conduits and computer panels, creating a strobe effect that played havoc with his eyes. A headache was forming, the pain blossoming from the afterimage of the lights. He welcomed the pain, clung to it like a lifeline. The pain kept him distracted from the unpleasant truth he wanted to avoid since the moment they had found the first survivor.

One, if not both, of his best friends was dead.

He had known Alex Carver for years. They had grown up together on stories of the great Starfleet officers of times past: Archer, Kirk, Picard, Sisko. They had even secretly idolized Cross the renegade. When he had been eight, and Alex six, they had sworn to each other that they would become captains of their own ships by the age of thirty.

He was now thirty-six.His nanites began sending new information to his brain. His suit's sensors had located the second survivor less than twenty feet away. Slowly lifting his hand, he looked up at the door before him and wiped away the scoring on the ID panel.

CARVER, A.  
CARVER, S.

A fit of panic seized him as he dug his fingers into the split between the doors, scrabbling for purchase. Gritting his teeth, he pulled one door far enough aside that he could creep through into the darkness beyond. Catching his leg on a sharp piece of wreckage, he cursed as he pushed through the door and collapsed on the other side. A faint light filled the room, starlight from the viewports on the wall. The smell in the room filled his nostrils, coppery and dank. Shining his light around him, he saw nothing except wreckage. The survivor must have been in the adjacent room.

"Selene? Alex? Can you hear me?" He crept into the bedroom, his heart nearly stopping at the sight which greeted him.

Alex lay facedown on the deck, brown hair matted with blood, a support column across his back. Selene lay on her side, sightless brown eyes glazed and open, her arm outstretched, hand resting gently on Alex's.

Dead.

Eyes burning with unshed tears, he checked her pulse and found nothing. Selene was gone forever, and had been for a while. Quietly, he moved over to Alex. A pulse, weak, but there. A thought opened a comm. line to the medic he had left down the hall. "Help me!"

Grasping the support column across his friend's back, he pulled with everything he had, struggling to move it off of Alex. His arms screamed in protest, but the support finally moved, freeing his friend just as the medic walked in, medkit already out and scanning.

"How is he?" His breath was coming in ragged gasps, the effect of both his recent strain and the thin atmosphere. The medic looked up sadly.

"I'm sorry, Commander. There's too much damage. Even if I bring him back to the _Crichton_, he probably wouldn't last the night."

"There's nothing…?"

The medic sighed, pointing to the tricorder's readout. "This man has three broken ribs, four fractured, a broken pelvis, massive internal bleeding, and brain damage. To be blunt, Commander, he's lucky he's in a coma."

Jason slumped down on the floor. _Nothing... _Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed the pain and felt his expression harden. Jason Madden had stepped aside. Commander Madden, First Officer of the _USS Crichton_, had taken his place. "He's still a survivor, Doctor. We'll bring him back to the ship. Him and his wife."

He had known Alex and Selene Carver for years. The least he could do for them was to bring them home for a decent burial.

* * *

Alex Carver sits, silent and still, trapped inside the darkest reaches of his own mind. He had felt Selene die, had felt a piece of himself ripped away at that moment, and had screamed, thrashing futilely against his prison. 

Now, mind and soul exhausted, he simply prays for death.

He can feel his body being moved, can hear Jason speaking above him, and wishes for an end.

Suddenly, he is no longer alone in the darkness.

**Not yet.**

The voice echoes inside his mind, weak, but filled with purpose.

**It is not over yet.**

The light explodes inside his mind and takes him.

Unnoticed by anyone, his body begins to heal.


	7. To Stand on the Edge of Forever, Ch 2

**To Stand on the Edge of Forever, Chapter Two  
**

"_It's our mortality that defines us, Soran. It's part of the truth of our existence."_

_-Captain Jean-Luc Picard "Star Trek: Generations"_

**(Section break)**

24

"It's over."

Jason Madden, uniform torn and soiled from nearly a day of rescue missions, slumped down next to the still-unmoving body of Alex Carver. All around them, the _Crichton_'s cargo bay was filled with the dead and dying, moans filling the air. After returning from the ruins of the _Albion_, he had brought Alex to the ship's chief medical officer, hoping for a way to revive his friend. Nothing.

So he had brought Alex here, to what had become the ship's new morgue.

A few feet to his right, a white stasis sheet covered Selene's body, preventing the onset of decay. If he looked hard enough, Jason could just make out her features hidden beneath the shroud. Beautiful even in death.

To his left, Alex laid on his back, eyes closed and a look of pain on his face. A faint blue glow surrounded him, a dampening field which dulled the nerves and eased whatever pain he might be in. At his feet, a folded stasis sheet similar to Selene's, a constant reminder of the inevitable moment when Alex's body would finally shut down and it would be necessary.

His thought had been to return them to Earth and bury them properly, allow their parents to say goodbye. Sighing, Jason leaned back and rested his head against the cool bulkhead behind him. He had known it would be hard, no parent should outlive their children, but now that was no longer an issue.

"We received the transmission about ten minutes ago. Earth is gone. Sol exploded and took the entire system with it. Starfleet headquarters, the Senate, all of it gone in an instant." Looking around, he saw several _Crichton _crew members wandering aimlessly through the hold, faces blank with the shock. "I suppose it hasn't quite sunk in, yet. I doubt that I'll have the time to let it sink in. We've lost three quarters of the Federation, Alex. Vulcan, the Borg homeworld, Romulus, Qo'nos, they're all gone.

"I'm not supposed to say anything, they figure it'll cause a panic, but who are you going to tell, huh? Temporal Investigations is stuck on this. They've tried going back to investigate, but all of their fancy time travel technology won't work. Rumour is that it might be some sort of weapon left over from the Temporal Cold War that just... went wrong, kind of like the first Antimatter bomb. Back in the twenty-first century they figured it was possible that the antimatter would destroy all the matter in the Universe. Tested it anyway. Guess they got lucky back then, it just destroyed Armstrong City.

"Guess we weren't so lucky this time."

Jason glanced over and sighed. Alex still didn't move. "So, it's over. There's no more Federation, and in a few hours, there'll be no more anything. Kinda makes a guy want to get good and drunk." Remembering a comment he had once made, he barked out a laugh. The dark sound caused more than a few crew members to look up in fear, "I still maintain that, even in the enlightened thirty-first century, you can still find real, honest-to-goodness alcohol if you know where to look, even on a starship. Problem is, right now, I really don't care.

"I don't care."

Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small object and dangled it in the air. A gold locket, heart-shaped, twisted on a necklace, casting incandescent light across his eyes as it caught the dull glow of the hold's spotlights. He had found the locket in Selene's hand, trying to force it into Alex's limp grasp. He had recognized it immediately as a gift Alex had given her years ago. On a whim, he had pocketed it. _To make sure that it reached Earth safely,_ he had told himself.

"You were lucky," he muttered, "you really were. You loved her and she loved you. Do you know how sick I was of hearing you talk about her every night while we were at the Academy? Took you four months to ask her out, you idiot. By that point I was ready to ask her out _for_ you if it would just get you to be quiet. That's all I wanted. Peace and quiet.

"Then you had to make me meet her. Remember that night? It was at Madam Chang's in San Francisco. It was an hour's wait, as always, but you insisted. I sat at that table for twenty minutes before you showed up. I was about ready to take your head off for being late, then she walked in."

Repocketing the locket, he smiled sadly at the memory. "She must have been the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Wasn't hard to realize what you saw in her. It never has been.

"If she hadn't married you…" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I would have asked her to marry me."

**(Section Break)**

Appolyon strode through the blighted wasteland that had once been the Q Continuum, ashes clinging to the hem of his black robe. Casting his eyes across the destruction, he felt as though he should smile and bask in the glory of the devastation.

And yet he found that he could not.

He still felt the power of the Q coursing through him, warming him to the very core of his being. A current of energy that burned in his eyes and crackled between his fingers. A light that cut through the darkness enshrouding his mind.

It had begun slowly, a crack in the wall of fog which had surrounded him from the moment of his release, allowing in a sliver of clarity. As time had begun to pass, the crack had become a hole, and the first sense of unease had appeared. A sense that he was not as he should be.

The guilt, infinite and crushing, had come soon after. He could remember the Q in their infancy, could still see the amazement on their faces as they had explored their newfound abilities. They had been so young, so innocent before the War. Now they were all dead.

And he had murdered them.

But a lifting fog is not the same thing as a vanished fog. Still the feelings of hate and anguish, the desire for revenge, the need to destroy came to him, fighting with the guilt. They had become two armies clashing on the battleground, fighting desperately for purchase. One moment, the darkness would whisper to him of power and revenge. The next, the light would whisper to him that what he had done was fundamentally _wrong_, contrary to his very being. With each passing rotation, the darkness became stronger, and the light weaker.

_You did what was needed. What they deserved._

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, twisting his dark beard.

_How did they deserve this? You murdered them all! They all died at YOUR HANDS!  
_  
Paralysing guilt crashed over him, driving him to his knees with a broken sob as he clutched his head between shaking hands. "They're not all dead." He whispered, desperate to drown out the screams in his mind. "Abaddon is still alive. My brother is still alive."

_He is a threat to us._

He is your brother!

He would destroy us.

We would DESERVE IT!

He knelt there, weeping into the ash strewn ground in agony as the two halves of his mind fought for control of his body. Hot tears coursed down his face, burning clear tracks through the mask of grime which covered his face. Pulling his trembling hands away from his face, he stared at the hands of a stranger. The hands of his first murdered victim. Probing fingers touched a face not his own, traced the dark beard of a stranger. Panic and guilt overwhelmed him, serpents which coiled around his spirit and silenced the ever-present screams. He was no longer himself.

Who was he?

_You are Appolyon._

The feather-soft whisper brushed against his consciousness, soothing the serpents and allowing them to sink back into the darkness from which it had come.

_You did what was right. They were dangerous, not only to you, but to themselves. Remember what they did to you. What would stop them from doing that to another?_

The tears stopped as the whisper spoke to him, enveloping him in a sense of security, assuring him of the _rightness_ of what he had done. He had not done this for himself. He had done it to protect _them_. To protect them from themselves. "I was protecting them…"

_We know that what you did was difficult. We know that you are in pain, but sometimes love requires difficult acts._

"But what of the universes that have died? The mortals? Did they deserve to suffer as they watch the Multiverse die around them?"

_We can mourn the lost, and ease the suffering of the dying._

"Ease their suffering…?"

_Yes. Release us. Let us help you. Let us help all of you._

"How…?"

_The Guardian. The Guardian must release us._

Appolyon stood on unsteady feet, the ashes of the dead coating him from head to feet. "You can stop the pain…?"

_We can stop all pain. Everywhere. No one need suffer as you have ever again._

A beatific smile appeared on his face as he understood. This had never been about him. It had always been for others. If he did this, he could stop all pain. Everywhere. No one need suffer as he had ever again.

The whisper had told him so.

_Abaddon will try and stop you. He still lives. He still suffers._

The smile beamed peacefully. "Then we cannot let him. He must be saved."

_Yes. All must be saved._

Appolyon turned and left the battleground that had been the Continuum forever, returning to the place he had suffered for so long. Returning to the place of his salvation.

Returning to the Guardian of Forever.

So intent was he upon his new mission, that he never realized that the fog had fallen upon him again, and that the light had faded away to nothingness.

**(Section Break)**

Abaddon knew that he was already as good as dead. As powerful as he was, there was no possible path he could take against his brother and survive the experience.

There was a strange peace which came with knowing that one's death approached. A calm and clarity of purpose. For if death is assured, there is nothing which one cannot wager, no act which cannot be performed, no risk which cannot be taken.

It was a philosophy which he found he shared with the Human whose body he inhabited. The Human had already accepted his death and cared nothing for how it came. Both beings were prepared to die, and though Abaddon regretted that his death would also be that of the Human's, he was comforted that the Human would at least welcome it.

His plan was childishly simple. He would hide within the Human's body and attack Appolyon by surprise. Should fate smile on him, Appolyon would be killed before he could retaliate, and Abaddon would live long enough to stabilize the Multiverse. Discontent roiled through him at this thought. Billions of years of existence, and the best plan he could construct was to use a… how did the Humans say it? A Trojan Horse.

Pity for his lost brother filled him. Appolyon had been an innocent forced into a War he had not wanted to join, and the result of this had been an insanity so dangerous that imprisonment had been the only option. Appolyon was right. He, Abaddon, was to blame for this situation. It had been his vote which had cast his brother into the Guardian and the darkness.

How can you justify fighting an enemy you created? How do you kill a friend?

His power had nearly returned when he heard the scream. It was piercing, soul-shattering. The essence of terror concentrated into a single, horrible sound. In that instant, Abaddon knew the gruesome truth.

He had run out of time.

Appolyon had returned to the Guardian of Forever, and the Guardian was afraid.

There was no choice, no hope for time, no possibility of salvation. Abaddon knew that death was coming for him, growing ever closer with each passing second. There was no fear, only acceptance that his immeasurably ancient life would soon be at an end. He was prepared to meet death, and perform one final, desperate act.

He would kill his brother.

**(Section Break)**

Lying where he had been set down on the cold floor of the _USS Crichton_'s makeshift morgue, inches from the remains of his beloved wife, the impossible happened.

Alexander Carver opened brown eyes, and in them burned all the power of an ancient being named Abaddon.

**(Section Break)**

There was death on the bridge.

Not literally, not yet. No one had died, but every crew member still manning their stations could feel the cold grasp of the grave at their backs. Silence filled the room, punctuated by the soft sound of instrumentation endlessly running it's predetermined operations. Each crew member sat, staring sightlessly at their consoles, consumed by their own dark thoughts.

"Commander?"

The soft voice beside him led Jason's thoughts off the dark path they had been set on and back to the real world. _All told, _he thought morosely as he glanced up at the young officer who had approached him, _I prefer the path. _"Can I help you, Ensign?"

"I was running a security scan on the shuttle bay…" _Anything to keep busy _"…and… there's someone in the bay, Sir."

"What?"

The exclamation had come from Captain Devis, who had turned in his command chair to join the conversation. The frown which had already marked his expression had deepened. "I ordered the shuttle bay locked down."

The Ensign had gone pale under the Captain's scrutiny, and struggled to respond. "Yes, Sir. I helped lock it down myself. There's still someone in there, Sir. I'm sorry, I can't explain it."

"Give me a visual on the Bay. I want to know who's trying to run."

The central view of the rapidly dimming starfield outside shifted to a view of the _Crichton_'s main shuttlebay. A large hatch covered the floor, and several cylindrical shuttlecraft hung suspended above, connected by a series of fenced walkways. Jason gasped as he saw the figure standing beside one of the shuttles, fingers dancing across the exterior control panel.

Alex.

Somehow, Alex had woken. He stood in the shuttlebay, dressed in what was obviously a stolen uniform, and was trying to steal a shuttlecraft. Why?

"Captain…"

"Isn't that your friend, Commander? The friend who was supposedly dead?"

"Yes, Sir." Jason swallowed with a suddenly dry throat and came to the only decision he could. "Sir, request permission…"

Devis nodded before Jason could finish speaking. "Go on, Commander, but understand. That shuttle is _not _to leave the _Crichton._"

Jason nodded. "It won't, Sir.

"It won't."

**(Section Break)**

Conviction is a powerful thing, but so is friendship.

By the time Jason reached the shuttlebay, his friendship with Alex had battled the conviction he had given his captain and defeated it. If he could not stop Alex, could he simply let Alex leave?

The door hissed open at his approach and let him walk unhindered into the cavernous room. Alex still stood beside the shuttle, still tried to access it's control panel, and still Jason's mind could only grasp the fact that his friend was supposed to be dead.

"Alex."

His voice, tinged with the slightest southern drawl, echoed across the room. As it died away, Alex's hands dropped from the shuttle's hull, and he turned to face his oldest friend.

Immediately, Jason began to feel something wrong. He had known Alex nearly his entire life, they had grown from children to adulthood together. He knew every nuance of Alex Carver, the set of his jaw, his eyes, his shoulders. He knew the way Alex moved, walked. Alex was far from a dancer, far from match for Selene's effortless stride, but he was infinitely more graceful than what Jason was witnessing now. Alex moved stiffly, abruptly, as though he was not quite used to the way his muscles worked. The image was far beyond unsettling, and the feeling it inspired was equally disconcerting. At the same time, Alex had become both long-time friend and stranger.

"Alex. What are you doing?"

Alex turned back to the shuttle, returning his attention to the control panel. "Look, Alex. I know you're hurting. Okay? It can't be easy. I miss her, too. But you've got to step away from the shuttle." No change, nothing to even suggest that Alex had heard him. "Come on, Alex. This is me. Jason. Remember? The guy who dragged you to all those parties at the Academy? The guy who arranged for an actual Orion Slave Girl for your bachelor party? The guy you helped pass Basic Engineering?" Jason took a step forward, his arm reaching up for his friend's elbow. "Come on, you know me. But you've got to come with me now, okay?"

His hand brushed Alex's arm, and for the first time, there was a reaction. Before his mind could process the act, Alex's hand was clamped around his throat and he had been lifted a foot into the air. "Alex…"

"You do not understand what you interfere with." The voice was cold, emotionless, and did not belong to Alex Carver. "I have no wish to hurt you, but I must leave this vessel."

Jason's larynx burned with the attempt to gasp oxygen into his lungs past the vicelike grip. "Why…?"

"You cannot understand. Leave now. This vessel has moments of life left to it. I must leave before then." With that, Alex threw Jason across the room and into a bulkhead. As Jason slumped to the ground, the shuttle's hatch opened and Alex stepped into it. Power built around the shuttle as the hatch below opened, the flickering blue light of a forcefield illuminating the room.

_Commander! _Devis' voice screamed in the back of Jason's mind as his nanites opened a communication channel. _What's going on down there!_

"Not sure, Sir." Jason struggled to lift himself to his feet as he watched the shuttle drop through the hatch and vanish with a brilliant flash as it set itself on it's course. "But I wish I knew."

The room was bathed in a dark glow as the _Crichton_ shifted into a red alert. **WARNING. SUBSPACE DISTORTION WAVE APPROACHING. ALL HANDS BRACE FOR IMPACT.  
**

Jason glanced at the space that seconds before had held a Federation shuttle. The shuttle that had been stolen by his best friend.****

_Commander! Get up here. We've got an emergency!_

Jason looked over at his shoulder at the door that led out of the shuttlebay and to the bridge. The door that led to his duty.

_Commander!  
_At a run, Jason boarded one of the other shuttles and left the ship seconds before the _Crichton _was destroyed, a single thought on his mind.

Where are you going, Alex?__

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
**Hi everybody. Well, it's getting close. One more chapter and the actual story begins! All this is just set up. It's like... everything that happened in Voyager's _Caretaker_ before Voyager entered the Badlands. And next chapter is my equivalent to hurtling Voyager 70000 light years. It's gonna be fun!

But, before that: an acknowledgment.

From "To Stand..." Chapter One

_They had grown up together on stories of the great Starfleet officers of times past: Archer, Kirk, Picard, Sisko. They had even secretly idolized Cross the renegade.  
_I should probably acknowledge that "Cross the renegade" is a tip of the hat to the excellent fanseries "Star Trek Renaissance". I'm not sure if it's still up and running, but for 2001 to 2004, I thought it was the best Star Trek around.


	8. To Stand on the Edge of Forever, Ch 3

**To Stand on the Edge of Forever, Chapter Three  
**

"_The needs of the many outweigh..."  
"...the needs of the few..."  
"...or the One."  
Spock and James Kirk "Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan"_

**(Section break)**

24

Even in the most tangled chaos, there is a shred of order. A pattern which, though difficult to see, guides events through to their conclusion.

The threads in the pattern exist only for themselves and those threads which immediately intertwine with them. They cannot see the whole, though they create it with their very existence. At this moment, the pattern is unweaving, collapsing into negation. Only five threads remain, and they rush towards each other, coming together in a fateful, tangled knot.

The Guardian of Forever forms the central thread, the key which holds the pattern together. So long as this thread remains, the pattern will exist, though in what form, not even the Guardian knows.

Reaching out from it, like spokes in a wheel, are four threads. Two immortal, two mortal.

Appolyon the Destroyer, imprisoned within the Guardian of Forever four hundred millennia before as punishment for fulfilling responsibilities pressed on him unwanted. He has killed all of his kind, and countless others as he watched the Multiverse collapse. Now he stands before his jailer one last time as he prepares to strike the final blow and destroy the pattern of the Universe forever. He must. The dark whispers in his mind tell him that the Guardian must die.

Abaddon, brother to Appolyon, last survivor of the Q Continuum. Immeasurably old, he bears the guilt for creating the monster his brother has become. He rushes towards the Guardian of Forever, concealed within the body of a human, and prepares to slay the demon he has forged. For the sake of what remains, he knows that both he and Appolyon must die. He knows this, and he accepts this.

Jason Madden, former Starfleet Commander, former first officer of the Federation bioship _Crichton_. In the last two days, he has watched countless friends die. He has lost his home, he has lost his family, and he knows that it is quite possible that he is only one of two survivors of the entire Human race. At this moment, he chases relentlessly after the only other survivor. As any true friend would, he follows his friend to the end of the Universe.

The final thread is the weakest of them all, threadbare and ready to unravel. Alex Carver, best friend to Jason Madden and host to the essence that is Abaddon. He has stepped to edge of death and stands there, trapped. His body is not his to control, he is imprisoned within his own mind, and his soul screams for release. He has watched his wife, the bright centre of his life, die. He welcomes the possibility of death as his chance to be with her again, begs for it.

The five threads rush towards each other, coming together in a fateful, tangled knot that may signal the end of everything.

Yet, as with all stories, fate is not finished with them yet, and the weakest may prove to be the strongest of all.

**(Section break)**

Even from orbit, Abaddon could see the flashes of power illuminating the dark atmosphere of Forever World, ribbons of obsidian energy cascading across the dusty continents and dry ocean beds. Already he could sense the titanic battle occurring miles beneath him as the Guardian of Forever fought to hold back the apocalyptic path that Appolyon stood upon.

In it's own way, it was darkly beautiful.

Abandoning the thought, he played Alex Carver's fingers across the control panel of the shuttle, and began his descent towards the Guardian's plateau.

**(Section break)**

The transwarp shuttle reverted to normal space with a jarring shudder, tossing Jason Madden headlong into a support beam. The journey had not been an easy one. Subspace was unravelling quickly, collapsing around him as he had tracked Alex here, to a deserted world on the edge of Federation space.

Turning his mind inward, he accessed his nanites, feeding the readings of the shuttle's sensors through into conscious mind. Beyond this system was nothing but a maelstrom of colliding energies. A dead Universe.

Angrily shaking his head, he turned the sensors toward the planet. Below average size, more planetoid than planet, nothing remarkable save for the steady pulse coming from the beacon in orbit. A cursory thought brought the pulse's transmission over the shuttle's speakers.

**UFC 465537. QUARANTINED UNDER GENERAL PROHIBITION P-119. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES APPROACH. USS ENTERPRISE NCC-1701. CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK COMMANDING.**

_Kirk..._ James Kirk was eight hundred years dead and gone, the _Enterprise _nine hundred. 1701 meant that this beacon had been placed in orbit during Kirk's tenure as captain of the original Constitution class cruiser. 

_465537... The Guardian._ Suddenly, Alex's flight made sense. The Guardian of Forever might be the only way to step back and stop this madness before it started, although in Jason's mind he knew that would only be a happy consequence. Alex intended to use the Guardian to travel back and save Selene.

Jason's mind was at war with itself. To allow Alex to succeed would cause terrible damage to the timeline. In this case, a Grandfather paradox was not a mere possibility, but a certainty. If Alex were the change his own past, eliminating the need for time travel, who would then travel back to change the past? A paradox could be just as dangerous to the timeline as doing nothing.

Above that, the quarantine of Forever World warned him away. Like any child, he had read Kirk's autobiography and been fascinated by the chapter dealing with the Guardian. The story of Edith Keeler, the shift in the timeline that resulted from her salvation, was fascinating, but something had always struck him as off, as though there were something missing. Something had happened to Kirk on Forever World, something he had never shared with anyone, not even Starfleet Command. Whatever it had been, it had been something horrible, Jason was sure of it.

Everything was telling him to stay away.

His lips set in a grim line, he set a course for the surface. He had come this far, after all, and Alex might still need his help. What was breaking a few rules if they could save the Universe

_and Selene.  
_

**(Section break)**

Fat droplets of ebony laced blue lightning rained down on the Guardian of Forever, cascading across the rapidly fading protective field it had established around itself. The dead air of Forever World had come alive with crackling energy and the smell of burning ozone. The dust covered ruins that had surrounded the plateau for longer than even the Guardian could remember had crumbled to the ground under the assault. The planet writhed and twisted like a living thing as incalculable power was driven like a blade directly into it's heart, it's soul, into the very fabric of space and time themselves.

Amidst it all, Appolyon stood, the stolen power of the Q Continuum and the First Ones flowing off him like waves.

_He stands against us! _The whisper was now nearly a scream in his mind, driving him forward, guiding his actions. His fingers twisted into talons as he redoubled his efforts, nearly draining himself of power as he threw barrage after barrage against the Guardian, only to watch the shield flicker…

and hold.

Appolyon screamed as he felt the power reach up within him, grasping at his very being and twisting as his own essence was used to support the power already being used. The ground between himself and the Guardian shattered, shards of glass-like stone ricocheting for miles as his scream increased in pitch and intensity, escalating into the eldritch. Driven to his knees, the Destroyer of the Multiverse poured power, heart, soul and the very fabric of the universe against the Guardian.

And still the Guardian held.

The screaming in his mind raised in volume, shrieking like mythical Earth Banshee, it's shrill cry driving him in his madness. The body he had adopted for himself began to flicker, dark features phasing out of existence as he lost cohesive thought. The power was becoming overwhelming, erasing what little was left of Appolyon until it took over completely, destroying the frail human avatar in a maelstrom of a cobalt fire. Flames licked at the ground as a writhing column of blue energy twisted in the air before the Guardian, it's form laced through with onyx lightning. A force of nature.

It didn't even require a thought to bring the small Starfleet shuttle crashing to the ground.

**(Section break)**

Abaddon dragged himself out of the burning wreckage, Alex Carver's fingers twisted into claws as they dug into the hard ground of Forever World. He had protected the body as best he could in the crash, reducing what should have been a fatal landing into a few scrapes and cuts.

The shuttle had come to rest on the edge of what had been the Guardian's plateau, the wreckage smoking and sparking. In the distance, the ruins of the ancient city of Oyya were gone, reduced to rubble and ash.

_Just like the plan._

His plan was useless now that he had lost the element of surprise, if he had ever even had it in the first place. Appolyon had known he was coming, had known where he was, and Abaddon could only conclude that the reason he wasn't dead already was because his brother didn't consider him a threat.

He lifted Alex Carver's eyes to take in the battle occurring before him. The Guardian struggling to hold against Appolyon. The blue and black ribbon that was his brother twisting and writhing in midair. 

Pushing himself to his feet, he stumbled towards the battle, teeth gritted and eyes set.

For the first time in millennia, Abaddon went to war.

**(Section break)**

Jason had almost screamed when he had seen the lightning bolt strike Alex's shuttle, ripping it almost in half and sending it careening to the ground far below.

When his sensors had seen Alex pick himself up out of the wreckage and stagger towards the energy being striking at the Guardian of Forever, he had simply stared, wide-eyed.

_Alex coming back from the dead, Universe ending, Great-big energy being battling the Guardian of Forever..._

Okay.

There comes a point when surprise is no longer possible, and all that is left is to simply accept.

**(Section break)**

In everything, there is a central point. A keystone. A nexus.

In regards to time itself, the Guardian of Forever is the crux, the point where everything flows together. It holds tightly onto the strings of time, each string a separate Universe filled with possibilities of it's own. Should the Guardian collapse, the strings would be destroyed and the Multiverse itself would follow suit.

Now, though, under assault by a being almost as old as it is, the Guardian finds the strings slipping from it's grasp. Desperate, it gathers the handful that remain, determined not to let go, but time is running out...

... and so are the possibilities.

**(Section break)**

In the small corner of his existence that still remained, Appolyon lay, considering.

Did revenge matter to him anymore? All who had wronged him were dead, save his brother, and that would be dealt with soon enough.

Did the cold bother him now? The power he had stolen from the now extinct Q kept him warm, but even so, he was now more a force of power than a living being, and what use did power have for concepts such as hot or cold?

Did salvation matter? Hardly. Not for himself, not for the Multiverse.

No, now only one thing bothered him. It was a thing that had bothered him his entire imprisonment, though after awhile he had learned to focus on other pains. The cold had been a nuisance, the isolation an annoyance. The only thing that mattered now was that once the Guardian was destroyed _he could die and_ _THE SCREAMING WOULD STOP!_

He was so intent on the screaming that filled his world, that he couldn't hear the low buzzing that slowly grew in volume, much like power building and growing closer.

**(Section break)**

The gale whipped across the plateau, driving grit into Alex Carver's eyes and burying it in his hair. Around him, the planetoid was collapsing, violently disintegrating as the temporal nexus it housed came apart. A hundred feet from where Alex stood, a giant chasm opened, leaving a gaping wound all the way to the Guardian of Forever.

It was, Abaddon noted sadly, the end.

Looking up at his brother, onyx and cobalt ribbon flashing, he exploded from the frail human body, his own turquoise form striking at Appolyon, and sending Alex Carver, truly awake for the first time since his wife's death, flying back across the plateau.

Abaddon never spared a second thought for the human.

**(Section break)**

Alex awoke to chaos.

Opening his eyes, he stared into a storm of blue energy, shot through with black ribbons. Whatever world he was on was being ripped to pieces, and he had a strong feeling that this was the end.

Above it all, Selene was dead.

Laying back on the hard, trembling ground, he closed his eyes and wrapped himself in pity, waiting.

It is very easy to close your eyes when there is nothing worth opening them for.

**(Section break)**

For one single, pristine instant, the Guardian saw through the chaos of the collapsing timelines.

Hope.

It was far from a perfect future, and depended on variables too numerous to count before it came to pass, but there would be a possibility of a future.

The Humans had a saying. _Beggars cannot be choosers._

As the possibilities dwindled, the Guardian latched onto this imperfect thread with all of it's strength and refused to let go. It would not have to fight for long.

The keystone to this future was lying less than a hundred meters away and the Guardian knew of only one thing that could make him fight for life and enter the time portal.

Concentrating, it created an image of Selene Carver and began to call her husband's name.

**(Section break)**

_Alex...  
_  
Leave me alone.

_Alex...  
_  
Go away.  
_  
Alex...  
_  
Hot tears burned Alex's face as they traced a path down his cheeks and dripped onto the heaving ground. Why couldn't the Universe just get it over with already? He had already lost everything that mattered to him, so why did the Universe insist on letting him live? Was it some cruel joke?

The ground beneath him cracked and shot upwards, sending him flying across the rocky plateau. He hit, his bruised and battered body suffering even more as sharp stones cut into him. Lacerations and abrasions, enough to make him squirm in pain, but not enough to kill him.

"Alex."

The voice cut through the pain, cut through the agony, cut through the pity he had wrapped around himself like a shroud. His name had been spoken quietly, yet somehow he had heard it over the roar of the collapsing planet. The voice was soft, the hint of an exotic accent lending it a lilting quality, making it musical to his ears. It was a voice he had heard millions of times before, a voice he would know from the angriest scream to the most loving whisper. It was the only voice in the Universe that could possibly make him open his eyes now.

Standing a short distance away, silhouetted by the Guardian of Forever, was his wife.

"Alex. Help me."

Tapping reserves he had thought gone forever, Alex Carver stood and stumbled towards Selene and the Guardian.

**(Section break)**

Jason ducked to avoid the raining debris falling around him. It had been impossible to find a landing site near the plateau and so he had simply set the shuttle to hover nearby and had jumped to the shifting ground. When the debris had started to fall, it had crushed the shuttle in midair, leaving him stranded.

So he had started to run for the Guardian.

As he came within eyesight of the Guardian, he saw the two energy beings still fighting, he saw the Guardian, wondrous sights to be certain, but his eyes were drawn to one thing.

Alex running for the Guardian.

That was when a bolt of energy ripped the ground between Alex and his goal, sending both tumbling into the newly-formed abyss.

"ALEX!"

**(Section break)**

Mere seconds ago, Alex had been laying on the ground, curled up and wanting nothing more than to die.

Now, he hung over the edge of a rock face, fingertips digging into the ground, and fighting desperately for his life.

One thing had changed in his life, one thing that had changed everything.

Selene needed him.

Looking down, he saw the Guardian, lying on it's side on the bottom of the crevice, the flashing time vortex hissing and spitting as it destabilized. Clutching the edge of the stony arch was Selene, face stricken with fear as she was being drawn backwards into the whirlpool.

"Alex!"

"Hold on! I'm coming!" Desperate, he looked around. Selene was at least a hundred feet below him, a fatal fall if he just let go. He had to climb down, but that would take time.

Then the Universe took the decision away from him.

For a split second he hung there, weightless as he watched the edge of the crevice crumble beneath his fingertips. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as gravity latched onto him and he began the long fall to the bottom.

A hand shot forward over the edge and grabbed him by the wrist, nearly wrenching his arm from it's socket.

Alex screamed in pain and looked up at his saviour.

"Jason?"

His old friend lay on the ground, upper body hanging over the rim, right arm stretched down and holding him by the wrist. A smile laced through with a pain-filled grimace split across his face as he struggled to pull Alex up. "Hey. Nice to see ya. Mind telling me what's going on?"

"You have to help me. Selene's down there, we have to help her!"

A look of pity flashed across Jason's face. "Alex... Selene's gone."

Anger surged through Alex, tinting his vision with red. His voice was almost a growl as he spoke. "What are you talking about? She's right down there!" And he looked down.

The Guardian was alone at the bottom, the vortex seething like boiling water.

There was no Selene.

"She was right there." It was almost a whisper. "She needed me."

"Alex." He looked up at Jason's voice, having almost forgotten his friend's presence. "I saw her body myself. She's gone."

_No.  
_  
_Impossible_

The Guardian. She fell into the Guardian.  
  
Jason must have seen something in his eyes, because his grip tightened. "Don't you even think about it!"

"I have to."

"Give me your other hand!"

"She must have fallen in..."

"Alex, give me your hand!"

He smiled sadly, and gave Jason his other hand. "Thank you, Jace."

He placed both feet against the rock wall and pushed. Jason slid forward a few inches. "What are you doing!"

Alex's voice was resolved as he looked up at his oldest friend one last time. "What I have to."

He yanked backwards one more time and Jason lost his grip.

**(Section break)**

Jason stared down as Alex plummeted, shocked.

_No..._

The rock face collapsed and Jason fell.

**(Section break)**

The screaming stopped and the fog of power lifted from Appolyon's mind.

In the crystal clarity of the moment, a whisper brushed his consciousness, cold and mocking.

_Behold Appolyon. Philosopher, poet, murderer and destroyer of the Multiverse._

He shifted into his Human form as the truth dawned on him and he saw what he was and always had been.

A pawn.

Hundreds of millennia ago, a race of energy beings, known only as the Bringers, had scoured the Multiverse, bringing death to whichever world they found. They were the enemy which Appolyon had been created to fight, the enemy which he had helped defeat. War had spread across the Multiverse for millennia until the Bringers had been beaten, crushed beneath the power of the fledgling Q Continuum. Assumed destroyed, life had returned to normal in the Multiverse, and they had never been heard from again.

Until now.

Appolyon had become the enemy he had sought to destroy.  
_  
You see, Young One, you see. We owe you our gratitude. You have done much of our work for us._

As the whisper's mocking laughter faded away, Appolyon looked up at the angry form of his brother, and watched the killing blow fall.

**(Section break)**

The Guardian could feel them.

They were a cold darkness, seeping through into reality, and the ancient device no longer had the power to hold them back.

It looked out across the ruins of the Multiverse, the frayed and tattered threads. The intricate and beautiful tapestry was gone, reduced to a handful of strings.

But those strings could form the beginning of a new tapestry. However, whether those threads were strong enough to survive in order to create this new tapestry remained to be seen.

The darkness was leaking through, and the Guardian could see only one way to protect the future, to give it time to prepare to confront the darkness.

It let go.

As the Guardian died, the Multiverse collapsed and many universes...

...were reduced to one.


	9. Eurydice in the Pit, Ch 1

**Eurydice in the Pit, Chapter One  
**

"_I tell you, Worf, war is much more fun when you're winning. Defeat makes my wounds ache."_

_-General Martok, "Sons and Daughters"_

_ ---  
_

**In the Between...**

_He remembered falling._

_He remembered passing through the time vortex as Forever World ripped itself apart around him, the Universe collapsing into entropy even as he himself was saved. _

_He remembered Selene._

_The warm touch of her hand, the sweet smell of her hair, the sight of her smile. To him, they were the only things that mattered. She was the only thing that mattered. _

I'll see you soon. I love you.

_He remembered her last words to him as she lay dying, and the belief that they were true was the only thing that kept him sane as he fell._

---

**What once was there, but is now all that is left...**

She ran headlong through the streets of the deserted city, dark hair whipping madly about her face as her breath came in short, explosive pants. They were close now, probably no more than two hundred meters. She could hear the howling of their beasts as they hunted her, could almost feel the pounding of their boots beneath her feet. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep herself from turning to look behind her, searching for the demonic forms that chased her.

Her foot caught on a piece of rubble in the street and she fell, hands spread out to brace herself. The impact, though, still jarred her, the shock racing up her arms and across her chest so painfully she bit her own tongue. Spitting blood into the ash strewn ground beneath her, she pushed herself to her feet and set off again, losing precious seconds as she struggled to regain her momentum.

Her legs felt like they were on fire, muscles straining to keep up the near impossible pace she demanded of them. The air was heavy, thick with falling ash which her overworked lungs desperately tried to breathe to keep her running.

---

The dark side of Earth's moon. Since the earliest days of humanity's space flight in the twentieth century, the dark side of the moon had interfered with communications and sensor networks, the entire concept of line-of-sight leading humanity to build satellites to relay messages and images from the blind spot. The satellites were long gone now, either destroyed or fallen into disrepair from centuries of lack of use. Now, over a thousand years after the human race had first reached out from their homeworld, the Earth was once again blind to everything on the far side of her only moon.

Making it the safest place for a starship to hide.

The small starship hung in the shadow cast by the rocky planetoid, her energy emissions lying near zero to avoid any possibility of detection. Her engines were cold and powerless and the only light her crew had was whatever starlight happened to make it's way through the dirty windows that circled her cramped bridge. Six hours ago life support had crashed, leading to a tense few hours while the crew had poked, prodded and finally beaten the system back to functionality. Now, stale, recycled air filtered through the ship, keeping them alive, even if not pleasantly.

Maynon Tal slouched in his chair, his booted feet resting comfortably on the pilot's console, deftly missing the exposed wires and circuit boards that he was constantly promising to repair. _Yeah, Skipper. No problem. I'll get that done._ Ever since the ship's last mechanic, a human named Mike, had up and left the ship, Tal had been pulling double duty. Hard enough piloting the ship, now, whenever something broke down, he knew that it was his fault and that he couldn't blame anyone else. Not to mention the fact that the Skipper flipped out whenever something happened to the engines. _So let's not mention that little life support fiasco to her, huh?_ Wearily, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the ridges under his fingers. "Can't we turn on the heat?"

"No."

"Just for a minute, Kordath. Just to warm up."

"No."

Tal swung his feet off the console and crossed his arms across his chest, bundling himself into the oversized parka he wore. "Just for a minute," he muttered, "we can't all be Klingon."

The large, grey haired Klingon leaning against the bulkhead never even looked away from the window as he answered. "Reactivating the environmentals may reveal our position. Do you believe that we can outrun a Khanate vessel and still retrieve the Captain?"

Tal mulled that over for a moment, tapping his fingers against the console. "It would be a challenge, yeah, but it might be fun to try. Besides, I thought that Klingons lived for battle and challenges and all of that stuff."

Kordath grunted, a sound that was almost a laugh. Tal grinned, he loved baiting the Klingon. "Only if the battle is necessary. There is no honour to be won in dying for sheer stupidity."

"So you say... still... Me. Not getting any warmer."

A new voice broke into the conversation from behind Tal. "Then try this." Something soft smacked him in the back of his head and fell over his eyes, blinding him as Kordath started to laugh. Pulling the blanket off his head, he turned and frowned at the chuckling Romulan behind him. "Funny, Nyssa. Very funny."

The lithe medic spat out another handful of chuckles before she answered, brushing dark hair away from where it had fallen in front of her eyes. "Sorry, Tal. You're just too easy a mark." Smiling, she nodded at the hulking Klingon, "Kordath. Any word yet?"

A frown formed on Kordath's face, and Tal watched his fists begin to clench beneath the leather gloves. "No. Nothing."

It always made him a touch scared when he saw Kordath angry, or even irritable. For a Klingon, the man was usually downright serene. Not that Kordath wasn't your typical Klingon (i.e.: Emotional and capable of committing much in the way of violence), he was usually just more relaxed about it. The only thing that Tal knew that seriously got beneath his skin was knowing that the Skipper was in danger and not being able to do a thing to help her out.

Of course, that got beneath the skin of everyone on the ship.

Tal had been the pilot of the _Icarus_ for close to five years now, ever since he had out flown the Skipper with an old, beat-up shuttle that had no business being anywhere but a junkyard, let alone up in the air. Of course, that hadn't stopped her from tracking him all the way home, taking back everything he'd stolen from her cargo bay, and then offering him a job. It had been a choice between being paid to fly the_ Icarus_, with the added bonus of free run of the kitchen, or a stay in prison.

Easy choice.

Tal knew that the Skipper had changed his life for the better, just as she had the lives of everyone on the ship. She had a tendency to pick up strays and find them jobs on her ship, give them a purpose and a chance to do something constructive. Nyssa had been a slave on a Khanate mining asteroid the Skipper had liberated. During the revolt, she had been shot in the side and started bleeding to death. Kordath had carried her back to the ship, and Nyssa had left the group of former slaves and operated on her, saving her life. It turned out that the Romulan had been a doctor for a small colony before she had been taken for slave labour. Rubbing her bandaged side, the Skipper had mentioned that she could use a medic on the _Icarus_, since she was getting tired of having to bandage herself up after getting hurt. It would be nice to have someone else to do all the messy, bloody work for a change. Nyssa had smiled, looked around at the small sickbay and said "Fine, then next time, don't bleed all over my floor."

Kordath had been the first of the three of them to join the crew, but no one really knew how. All anyone knew was that he had been a passenger, the ship had been attacked, and when the dust had cleared, he had simply stayed aboard. Tal had tried to weasel the story out of him, but had only received silence. When he had asked the Skipper, he had been met with a sad glance and told that it was Kordath's story and when the Klingon was ready to tell it, he would. "Until then, Tal," she had said, "leave it alone."

Their stories were all different, but one thing was the same in all of them: The Skipper had proved herself to them all, and earned their loyalty. They would all follow her into Hell and back if she asked it.

And right now, she was down in Hell, and they were going to have to go in there themselves soon enough.

---

There was a whisper of air moving and she watched in shock as a bladed disc flew past her right cheek, it's serrated edge missing her by inches. Throwing herself to the right, she narrowly avoided the deadly whisper of another blade as it embedded itself in the wall. Crashing into the rubble, she used her own momentum to spin around the corner and continue running. They were getting closer with every second. She couldn't afford to wait any longer.

Still running full tilt, she reached into her coat pocket and yanked out the boxlike communicator. Flicking it on, she screamed at the top of her lungs into it.

---

A burst of static ripped from the subspace radio, filling the silent bridge with the harsh sound, followed by the Skipper's voice.

_"Now! Do it now!"_

The effect of her voice was instantaneous on the bridge crew. Tal's feet swung down from his console as he started flipping switches above his head, bringing the ship's engines and environmentals back to life, trying to ignore the knot of panic in his chest. Nyssa sat in one of the bridge crash chairs, strapping herself in for what was likely to be a bumpy ride. Kordath set himself behind _Icarus_' small tactical console, bringing her single phase cannon up to full power. As he reached down for the control yoke, Tal picked up the transmitter for the subspace radio. "Skipper, if we do it now, you'll be stuck down there! We'd have to leave the system without you!"

A crackle of static. _"Tal, I don't care! You have the coordinates, just do it!"_

The three of them exchanged a look, then Tal bent forward and grasped the flight controls. Kordath picked up the receiver. "We will return for you. You have my word."

_"Just do it, Kordath. Let me worry about me for now."_

The Klingon nodded, and turned to Tal, eyes blazing beneath silver hair. "Go."

Tal bit down on his tongue as he typed into the console and shouted into the shipwide speaker. "This is Tal to everyone on the ship. Best to brace yourselves, people." The engine readouts evened out at seventy-eight percent. _That_ should_ be enough_. "This should be fun."

The ship physically shuddered as Tal brought the sublight engines up to full thrust from dead stop, pushing everyone back in their seats as _Icarus_ leapt forward and out of the moon's shadow and into full view of the five Khanate fighters in polar orbit of Earth. The blade-winged ships were small, half-a-dozen crew on each, maximum. They also happened to be fast, manoeuvrable, and each out-gunned Icarus at least ten to one.

Of course, none of them had Maynon Tal as a pilot.

The warp jump was sudden, brutal, and lasted only an eighth of a second, enough time to disappear from lunar orbit and reappear just outside of the planet's atmosphere. To the confused fighters, _Icarus_ was in two places at once for several seconds. Tal had read about the manoeuvre in a history text the Skipper had leant him a few months back and been waiting for the chance to try it out.

_Thank you, John Piccard, or whatever your name was._

Clutching the control yoke so tightly that his knuckles were vibrating, he spun the ship into a hard dive to starboard, watching the shields start to glow red as they plunged through the atmosphere. Sweat dripped into his eyes as the temperature inside Icarus rose steadily. _Wanted heat, huh?_

_Shut up._ He told that annoying little voice inside his head.

"Coming up on target. Arming cannon." Kordath's voice was steady, caught in the preparation for a fight. "Nyssa. Man the sensors."

As Nyssa rose to step to the sensor console, Icarus bucked, knocking everyone about and sending her skidding across the bridge. "That's all right! It's all right! That's supposed to happen." Tal's tongue was beginning to object to the incisors being pressed into it. "Just an air pocket, ladies and gentlemen. Nothing to worry about."

Nyssa cursed in Romulan as she pulled herself to her feet. "When you say it's nothing to worry about, Tal, I start worrying."

_Romulan pessimist_. With a final jolt,_ Icarus_ burst through the cloud cover over North America's pacific coast, the ruined city of San Francisco spread out before them. The once magnificent city had collapsed on itself, enormous skyscrapers reduced to nothing more than skeletal fingers reaching for the sky. Impact craters from Khanate weapons littered the ground, leaving gaping holes the size of several city bocks. A massive chasm had ripped through the Presidio, shredding the Golden Gate Bridge into pieces, and lying in the middle of all the destruction, a Khanate Communications Array.

A grey, utilitarian complex, the pyramid rose a hundred feet above the wreckage, subspace relays running around it in concentric rings. Tal frowned, according to reports, this array was the hub for all Khanate communications in five parsecs. Take it down, and those five parsecs would be in the dark for as long as it took to build a new one. Call it three months or so.

Typical mission. Chip the mountainside with a rock, then watch it go on being a mountain.

Shaking the thoughts out of his mind, he tilted his head towards Nyssa. "Skipper get the shields down?"

There was a quick beat as Nyssa waited for the straining sensors to report back. On her screen, a display of the Array appeared, the power readouts of it's shields flickering. "Not quite, but she got them down to about ten percent."

Better'n nothing. "Kordath? I'm going to have to make a quick pass, 'cause those fighters are gonna be on our tail any second now."

Without a sound, the Klingon took aim at the Array and fired. The first pulse from the cannon overloaded it's shields, and the second struck the structure itself, ripping the unprotected Array apart. Flames erupted all the way around it, the subspace relays collapsing to the ground. There was no war cry, no victorious shouts of "YES!", nothing but a feeling like they had lost. They may have accomplished the mission that they had been sent on, but this time it had cost them.

The Skipper was still down there somewhere.

_Icarus_ jolted as she was hit from behind. Overloads sparked from the ceiling as systems shorted out from the phaser hit. Tal gripped the yoke even harder as he pulled the ship up and back into the clouds, arms straining as _Icarus_ fought the rushing atmosphere around her. The ship was designed for space, and was about as aerodynamic as a flying brick, giving the circling fighters behind him a definite edge until he broke atmosphere.

"We will return for you."

Kordath's voice was low as the sound of the wind rushing around _Icarus_ died and stars appeared outside the bridge windows. As he warmed up the warp drive, Tal didn't need to ask if the Skipper had heard the Klingon's promise. He knew that she had, and now it was up to him to keep them alive long enough to make good on it. First step: Get rid of those fighters.

A grin formed on his face as he reached for the warp inititiator, and Nyssa would have blanched if she'd seen it. It was a grin he only used when he was about to do something particularly insane.

"Next stop: Oort cloud"

And _Icarus _jumped into warp, the five Khanate fighters right behind her.

---

The last thing she heard as the communicator went dead was the sound of the ship going to warp. They were safe.

Unlike her.

Still she ran, the sounds of her pursuers growing louder in the aftermath of the explosion. Dirty black boots pounded across the grey rubble as she pushed herself to her limits, then slowly began to exceed them. She had to find a way to hide from them until her crew came back for her. That was her mission now. Survive.

Two prayers had been answered in a single day, and now the time had come to pay the price. She skidded to a halt at the edge of the chasm, barely saving herself from falling into it's depths. She looked from side to side. Ruined buildings loomed on both her right and her left, cutting off any hope of escape. She spun around just in time to watch her hunters emerge from the smoke, their black armour segmented like reptilian skin, pale skin and dark eyes fading in with the ash clouds. Nightmares, every single one of them. Lifting her hands above her head, she spat the words out at them, the syllables tasting like bile in her throat.

"Looks like you got me."

The last thing she saw as they beat her into unconsciousness was the building on the other side of the chasm, it's ruined structure collapsing from centuries of abandonment.

The deserted remains of Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth.

---

**In the Between...**

_He remembered losing his grip._

_He remembered the ground collapsing beneath him, sending him plummeting through the Guardian of Forever as the time vortex began to collapse._

_He remembered feeling the Universe die behind him._

_The cold touch of it's hand, the rank smell of it's breath, the sight of all the stars dying. To him, it was a moment he would carry forever. A moment he would carry to the grave._

It's over.

_He remembered his own words, spoken only hours before. At the time, he had truly believed them. Yet he was still alive, and only the desperate hope that he had been wrong kept the madness at bay._

**Author's Notes:  
**Well, here we are. "Chickens come home to roost" as Mal Reynolds would say. It's been, what? Two and a half, three months since my last update? (Jeez, I hope you're all still willing to keep reading) I want to say sorry for that. It's been a hectic few months for me, and I'm still working seven days a week. Writing has, shall we say, taken a back seat for a while. What I posted last month was in desperation to post _something_, anything. Sorry for the sub-par stuff.  
But in any case, let me be the first to officially welcome you, my friends, to THE DARK AGE.


	10. Eurydice in the Pit, Ch 2

**Eurydice in the Pit, Chapter Two  
**

"_The true test of a warrior is not without – it is within."_

_-Lieut. Worf, "Heart of Glory"_

**---**

The song floated through her mind, existing in and of itself. Attached to nothing, leading to nothing. It simply was.

_The night-time fills the sky  
Stars alive, go floating by._  
_So still the evening air,_  
_So warm and soft, is everywhere._

It was a song that she had not heard in twenty-seven years, since she had been a little girl lying in bed, listening to her mother sing her gently to sleep. The Universe had not yet destroyed the bubble of safety that she had formed around herself.

_I see a world in harmony,  
A world of peace and humanity._ _  
Where people walk free,  
Like water in a stream,__Flowing on, forever more._

She was safe and warm with her family, not being beaten on some dead world in the middle of nowhere. Pirates had not yet taken her father from her, he still sat by her bedside and told her stories of the great Captains, Kirk and Picard, heroes of a Federation long dead.

_The breezes softly blow,  
Caressing warm, so sweet and low.__  
Upon my cheek I can feel,__  
Tenderly, a kiss so real._

The warmth that she felt was that of the blanket covering her bed, not that of the burning Communications Array in the distance. Monsters only existed in her nightmares. They weren't real.

_Like the touch of a hand that I cannot see,  
The sound of a voice deep inside of my heart.__  
So I dream of a new day coming, for all the world to see_

Life is good, her five-year-old self said. The good guys always win, and knights in shining armour arrive just in time to save the princess from the evil dragon.

_Lift your eyes and see a new day dawning,  
A dream that will soon come true,__  
The day we've waited for.__  
Lift your heart and see the future for us all._

That's wrong, her thirty-two-year-old self said. Monsters are real, the good guys die just like everyone else, and there is no such thing as a knight in shining armour.

As she felt another rib break, she knew that she was on her own.

---

Viewed from a distance, the Oort cloud can be seen as an enormous sphere, enclosing the solar system in a globe of ice and snow three light years in diameter. Trapped in the sun's gravitational pull, the cloud occasionally releases cometary debris into the system, creating events like Haley's Comet.

Inside the cloud, two icy asteroids slowly moved towards a collision, trapped in a dance decades old, incapable of escaping their respective fates. With a grace capable only in zero-gravity, they struck, shattering into a million icy fragments thrown in a million different directions. Many died seconds after birth, striking their brothers and sisters and creating entirely new patterns in the collision. Others sailed deeper into the cloud, never to be seen again. Still others were thrown free of the cloud, spiralling into the solar system on courses that might, some day, send them hurtling into the sun. Assuming that nothing got in their way, of course.

Things like starships, for example.

Or the fleeing cargo ship_ Icarus_ and the five Khanate _Kindjal_-class fighters in pursuit, in particular.

"Whoa!" _Icarus_ jerked as Tal threw her to starboard, narrowly missing a shard of ice easily twice the ship's size. Together, Tal, Nyssa and Kordath watched with a form of morbid fascination as two of the blade-winged fighters behind them emerged from warp directly in front of the same icy fragment, drilling through each other as an unstoppable object met unstoppable _objects_. Mutual annihilation was the only possible outcome. "Hmm. Think we'll get that lucky again?"

Nyssa frowned. "Somehow, I doubt it."

The ship barrel-rolled around another fragment, dodging and weaving to evade not only the ice, but weapons fire from the surviving three _Kindjals_ behind them. Watching them enter the cloud on the sensors, Nyssa turned to the pilot. "Oh, look, Tal. They're as crazy as you are."

Without looking away from the window, Tal dipped _Icarus_ to one side, coming dangerously close to skimming the surface of one of the asteroids just for fun. "Don't underestimate crazy. Crazy works." As they watched, one of the _Kindjals_ overcompensated for the icy debris Tal's manoeuvre had kicked up and flew straight into another asteroid. "See? Three down, two to go."

"Tal." Kordath's voice cut through the room. "Enough joking. Fly."

The Bajoran nodded, dishevelled blonde hair falling around his face. "Right."

As bad as the pilots of the previous three fighters had been, the pilots of the two that remained were much better. Even Tal, who claimed he was "The-Greatest-Pilot-Who-Had-Ever-Lived", had to admit that they were good. Through the ever denser field, they kept directly on _Icarus_' flank, peppering the space around the cargo ship with weapons fire.

An asteroid the size of a city appeared in the windows as Tal spun around another phaser beam, blocking the view of the field behind it and quickly growing larger. Insanely, Tal brought the engines to full power, speeding directly toward it, rather than veering away.

Nyssa gulped. "Tal?"

"Yes?"

"Umm... You do see that, right?"

"Yes."

"Now, I may be a good medic, but I can't raise the dead, you know that, right?"

Tal laughed. "Won't need to test that theory. Kordath? How's the phaser cannon doing?"

Kordath glanced at the readout in front of him. "Fully charged and ready to fire." The grey head bobbed as he realized what Tal was going to do. "Give me a target."

"One second." At full speed, _Icarus_ found herself trapped in the asteroid's gravity well, increasing in velocity as Tal spun her around the city-sized block of ice. The three crew found themselves pushed back in their chairs as the inertial dampeners struggled to keep up with the assault. Suddenly, the two _Kindjals_ which had, seconds before, been behind them, were in front of them. As_ Icarus_ escaped the gravity well, moving recklessly fast, Kordath aimed the phaser cannon between their wing-mounted engines, where a ship's shields needed to be weakened to allow radiation to stream out behind the ship. Two shots, and both fighters were free-floating atoms.

Pulling back on the throttle, Tal brought _Icarus_ to a dead stop, floating in the middle of the ice and debris field. Together, the three crew members stared out the bridge windows at the slowly spinning ice, a view that looked for all the world like a snowstorm. For long moments, the only sounds were the slow thrum of the cooling engines and the soft hiss of life support pumping air.

"That was far too easy."

Tal and Nyssa looked at Kordath with jaws open. "Easy? You call that easy?" Tal was almost shaking in shock at the Klingon's pronouncement. "Easy. He thinks that was easy."

The Klingon's dark eyes shifted from the windows to look at Tal. "Khanate have superior reflexes and intelligence. We should not have been able to escape them this quickly, if at all."

Nyssa leaned forward. "So what do you think? They weren't manned at all? Drone fighters?"

Kordath shrugged. "Perhaps. All I am sure of is that they did not devote everything to stopping us."

"Why?" Tal locked the helm down and turned in his seat to look at them both. "Why wouldn't they? We blew up the Sol system comm network. Unimportant as that is, they must still be annoyed." He stopped for a moment and considered. "Think they wanted to follow us back home?"

Kordath stared at the display screen in front of him, leather glove rubbing the grizzled beard. "Shut down the transceiver array. Remove it and throw it out the airlock. They may have recorded our signal for a trace. Activate the secondary transceiver. Once that is done, set a course for Vulcan. I need to speak with Captain Aldair." He stood and headed for the hatch at the back of the bridge leading down into the ship. "If I am needed, I will be in the cargo bay. If not, I do not wish to be disturbed."

And he was gone.

---

The edge of the _bat'leth_ swung through the air and decapitated one enemy, slicing through muscle, sinew and bone before turning upwards and striking a second assailant in the chest. Still in the same fluid movement, Kordath, son of Kamor, spun and crushed the nose of a third with the open palm of his hand, driving the fragile cartilage back into his brain and killing him instantly.

The fourth swung his blade at Kordath's knees, forcing the huge Klingon to roll forward and over the blow, bringing the _bat'leth_ up at the apex of the roll to block the downward stroke of a fifth blade. Twisting his upper body around, Kordath yanked the blade out of this latest enemy's hands, spun to his feet and drove his left elbow into their throat, crushing the windpipe.

As Five lay on the ground, clutching their throat and gasping for their last breaths, Four and Six came at him from opposite directions, blades swinging. Dodging the thrust Six aimed for his chest, Kordath grabbed Four by the hand and guided his strike into Six's chest before bringing the _bat'leth_ down left handed and removing Four's head from his shoulders.

Alone in the middle of the carnage, Kordath clutched his curved blade and panted, staring around him through sweat-soaked hair. Deep in his chest, his hearts pounded mercilessly against his ribs, flooding his veins with adrenaline and heightening his senses. He could smell and taste the coppery tang of the blood soaking the floor around him, see every detail of the wounds he had inflicted on his enemies...

...and hear the soft footfall on the metal scaffold above and behind him.

Dropping the _bat'leth_ from his left hand, his right grabbed the handle of his _d'ktahg_. In a single motion, he drew it from his belt and spun around, adjusted the aim infinitesimally as it left his hand...

...and missed Tal's nose by a quarter inch.

With a scream, the pilot fell backward onto the catwalk, hands clutching at the railing like a lifeline. Face white, Tal looked from the quivering hilt stuck in the bulkhead, to the sweating Klingon, and back to the knife. Standing on shaky legs, he reached out and touched the hilt, steadying it. Eyes wide as twin moons, he looked down at Kordath. "And people say that Klingons don't know how to aim."

Staring at him through lidded eyes, Kordath ran his hand through the mane of grey hair hanging in front of his face. As he turned and bent over to retrieve his _bat'leth_, his imaginary victims faded from his mind's eye, leaving the two of them alone among the crates filling _Icarus' _cargo bay. "I didn't."

"That's the problem with you, Kordath," Tal said as he tried to pull the _d'ktahg_ out of the bulkhead. "I can never tell if you're joking or not."

"I assume that you have come here for more than to discuss my aim."

He heard Tal sigh, then turn, the metal walk ringing as the pilot stared down at him. "Yeah. I've set a course for Vulcan, like you asked. Wasn't easy, by the way, but I don't think we'll be followed. All five of those fighters were destroyed in the Oort cloud and by the time more get dispatched, we'll be long since gone."

Lifting a cloth and whetstone, he began cleaning the blade. It was an old weapon, full of tiny pits and scars that he found he could not ignore no matter how hard he tried, but it was a well-loved weapon, an old companion that had fought beside him for as long as he could remember.

"Anyway. The course I've set should keep us undetected all the way to Vulcan. I've shifted our warp trail, and I'll be stopping a couple of times a day to double-back and around. Should confuse anyone foll..."

"I asked you to set a course, Tal. I do not care how." There. A new scar on the blade. He must have clipped the deck during his exercising. Inexcusable.

Tal's boots clanged on the stairs as he walked down to the floor of the Cargo bay. Kordath looked up and saw the pilot leaning against the wall, fiddling with a stylus he had picked up off the deck. "Hey. You've been down here for six hours now. That's pretty extreme, even for you." Flipping the stylus through the air into a pile of crates, Tal turned back and frowned, an unusually serious expression on his face. "This isn't your fault. It's not a 'stain on your honour', or whatever it is you want to call it."

"I left my commanding officer, and my friend, behind, and I ran. What else could it be?"

Tal shrugged. "You said that there's no honour in dying for sheer stupidity, right? Much as I hate to say it, the Skipper was right to tell us to run, and you're right in wanting to talk to Captain Aldair. If we're gonna go back for her, we're gonna need the _Harsesis_' help. With backup, we can go back, get the Skipper, and kick the Khanate's collective asses."

Kordath stared down at the curved blade of his _bat'leth_, watching his fists clench around the leather wrapped handguards. It went against his very nature to run and he had hated doing it, but Tal was correct. Kahless taught that a warrior could have only one death for his people, but a warrior who lives can kill many enemies before Death comes for him.

And Kordath, son of Kamor, had many enemies.

Standing, Kordath drew himself to his full height, towering over the small Bajoran, and leaned his _Bat'leth_ over his shoulder. "How long?"

Tal grinned, "We can reach Vulcan in three days. _Harsesis_ is a bit faster than us, so we should be able to make the return trip in one and a half, maybe two. Think the Skipper can survive on Earth for five days?" Kordath looked at the shorter man, his gaze alone answering the question. "Right, of course she can. She might actually be running the place by the time we get back."

Kordath laughed at the thought, a sound that filled the bay and echoed through the ship. Climbing the metal stairs to the catwalk, he pulled his _d'ktahg_ out of the bulkhead as he passed, imagining the look of shock on Tal's face as he did so. Walking out of the Cargo Bay, he never even looked back at the cloaked tracking device the Khanate had predictably transported into the room during the battle.

The tracking device he had crushed with his bare hands six hours ago.

---

The five hunters walked through the wreckage of San Francisco, watching the fire consume what had once been a communications array. Flickering light danced over their pale features and dark armour, giving them a dangerous, wraith-like beauty as they glided effortlessly through the rubble. Long white hair hung to the middle of their backs, cast red in the firelight. They surveyed the world around them from pale eyes set deep in chiselled faces, searching for any possibility of an attack.

Three of the hunters wore bandoliers across their chests, each holding a dozen bladed silver discs, deadly and efficient when thrown by skilled hands. The other two carried long staffs with smooth, curving blades on either end. All five wore a variety of knives and other weapons strapped across their bodies, as well as twin energy weapons on both wrists. Beautiful and deadly.

Hanging limp between the arms of the two rear hunters, the human captive began to moan. Hearing the sound, the lead hunter turned and appraised her with an elegantly arched eyebrow. Bruises covered every inch of exposed skin, and undoubtedly covered the concealed skin as well. Her black clothing was ripped and torn, dark coat hanging in tatters over her stirring form. One leg, her left, was bent at an unnatural angle, obviously broken in several places. Nodding to himself, he turned and continued walking. The human should consider herself fortunate his orders had changed from Kill to Capture, or she would have been dead by now.

As he and his fellows had beaten the human for the destruction of the array, fully intending to enjoy her death, they had received new orders: Take the human alive. His Lordship would want to interrogate her personally. And so, they had lifted her broken body and begun the march back to the ruined communications network, there to wait for the arrival of their Lord's cruiser. There had been no argument, no disapproval of the order, no hesitation in following it. Their Lord spoke, and they obeyed. It was their duty, a duty ingrained in them as deeply as their very genes.

They were Jem'Hadar.

Suddenly, the hounds a dozen meters before the First stopped in their tracks, muzzles sniffing the cinder-filled air as one, muscle and sinew coiling under their leathery hides. Lifting a long-fingered hand, he brought his companions to a stop as the hounds seemed to search for something. With no warning, all four hounds lifted their faces to the burning sky and released an ululating howl, the sound reaching from their throats and tearing at the clouds. With the sound, the First felt the hot wind around him begin to stir, quickly rising to gale force, whipping at his hair. The human's moans seemed to carry on the winds as her eyes opened, looking out on the world through a pain-filled haze.

Crackling energy seemed to dance between the First's fingers, clawing it's way up his arms until it felt as though his entire body was coated in lightning. Glancing over his shoulder at the four others, they shrouded, becoming invisible to the naked eye as they searched for the source of the storm, the barely conscious human left on the ground behind them, incapable of movement, able only to watch as her captors vanished into the maddened air.

---

Alex struck the uneven ground hard, his uniform jacket ripping on a sharp piece of rubble and his head striking a wall as he rolled. For a moment, he simply laid there, still and silent, as the wind picked at his dark hair, the only survivor of a dead Universe.

With a sudden gasp, his lungs lurched back into use, expelling his breath in a hacking cough and inhaling mouthfuls of ash. His eyes opened as the hot air stung his throat and filled his nostrils with the stench of burning metal. Rolling onto his side, he vomited, his body racked with agonizing heaves, the journey through the Guardian having taken it's toll.

James Kirk had written centuries before that travelling through the vortex of the Guardian was harmless, that it felt like stepping through a light mist. Agents of Temporal Investigations claimed that time travel felt the same as using a transporter. There was a light tingling, and then it was over.

Alex remembered nothing but pain, James Kirk's light mist transformed into a driving downpour, each pellet of rain striking his skin like a knife. The light tingling had become acid seething through his veins.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it had ended and he had found himself being thrown inelegantly to the ground of this place.

Rising to unsteady feet, he braced a hand against a ruined wall, his eyes still burning from the fumes. Through tear-filled eyes, he took in his surroundings. He was in an alleyway, devastated towers of glass and steel rose around him, their skeletal remains in various states of decay. In the distance, he saw the red haze of a fire burning out of control against a leaden cloud-filled sky. Grey ash fell, snow-like, over everything. To his eyes, it wasn't quite what had once been called a nuclear winter, but it was close. A raspy voice scratched across parched lips, "Where the Hell am I?"

As if in answer, the air seemed to shimmer in front of him, the hot wind blasting his face and forcing him to look away. Lightning seemed to surge around the disturbance as a figure appeared in mid-air and flew across the alley, flailing body driving straight into the far wall. As the body slumped to the ground, the disturbance vanished completely, the wind dying as quickly as it had risen. Alex stumbled across the alley towards the other man, weakened legs pushing him forward.

_Jason?_

_Hey. Nice to see ya. Mind telling me what's going on?_

The memories came rushing back to him, driving him to his knees with their ferocity. The collapse of the Guardian, Forever World ripping itself apart as the two energy beings fought in sky above him, Jason holding his wrist, keeping him from falling into the chasm.

Selene.

_What are you doing!_

_What I have to._

Falling.

"Jason?"

**Author's Notes:  
**I know, I know. The beginning of the chapter is the same as the one I posted a few weeks ago. I just loved it so much, and it works better as the beginning of a chapter rather than a chapter on it's own. (FYI: The song's called "Water Evidence" from Gundam Seed)  
JadziaKathryn and Grayangle, I just want to say thanks so much for the reviews. The knowledge that someone's enjoying the story is making all the hard work worthwhile. Tips hat


	11. Eurydice in the Pit, Ch 3

**Eurydice in the Pit, Chapter Three  
**

"'_He will triumph who knows when to fight and when not to fight.'"_

_-Cmdr. William T. Riker, "The Last Outpost"  
Quoting Sun-Tzu "The Art of War"_

---

The body lay motionless in the dark alleyway as Alex struggled to stay on his feet; his head still spinning and his legs still unsteady. Fumes from the nearby fire stung his eyes and turned his stomach. If he hadn't done so already, he would be curled in a corner vomiting. "Jason?"

With a moan, the black and red clad figure rolled over and opened his eyes, tearing up immediately. A great, hacking cough ripped from his throat as he started breathing again, followed by vomiting as the ash in the air reached the stomach. Stumbling over to him, Alex helped Jason to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

It seemed to take Jason a moment to focus on Alex's words, a moment where his teary eyes seemed glazed with confusion. Slowly, they cleared and his head turned to look at Alex. "What am I doing here?" A hand reached up and grabbed Alex by the throat, driving him against the wall. "_What am I doing here?_ I don't know, Alex! What the hell am I doing here? What the hell have you _done_!"

Gasping for breath, Alex grabbed Jason's arm with both hands, desperately trying to pry the other man off of him. Jason seemed to shrug it off, eyes blazing. Black spots began to circle his vision, and Alex drove a knee into Jason's stomach. The hand let go as Jason stumbled back, clutching his midsection. His vision clearing, Alex coughed, hand rubbing at his throat. Jason looked up, anger on his face as Alex held his hands up. "I don't know, Jason. I don't know what's going on." He frowned as he tried to search hazy memories. "Selene. Selene fell into the Guardian..."

"Alex." The anger on Jason's face melted away, sadness taking its place. "Selene didn't fall into the Guardian. She's dead, Alex. I saw it myself."

_I'll see you soon. I love you... _"No."

"Alex. I'm sorry..." Jason stepped forward and put a hand on Alex's shaking shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"You're lying to me."

"What?"

The punch took Jason completely by surprise, knocking him back into the wall and sending him tumbling to the ground. Alex stood over him, chest heaving and fists clenched. _"YOU'RE LYING TO ME!"_

Through a red-tinted haze, Alex watched Jason reach into his uniform and pull an object out of one of the inside pockets. It dangled from his fingers on a length of chain, glinting golden-red in the light as it spun slowly around. Alex fell to his knees, his vision clearing as he reached out for Selene's locket. His finger rubbed a small key and a hologram of a much-younger Selene appeared in the air in front of it.

In it, she was dressed in civilian clothes, obviously on leave. She was smiling as she waved her hand around the Rose Garden where their wedding eventually took place. Alex remembered that day. She had just graduated from the Academy and they had gone to British Columbia for a vacation before shipping out. He had proposed the day they had arrived and they had both stayed up all night making plans. The next morning, Selene had seen the University Rose Garden and fallen in love with it then and there.

_Alex, will you put that camera down and get over here?_

Tears fell down his face as he watched the smiling holo of himself enter the picture, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her into the air, spinning her around as she squealed. Laughing, he put her down and embraced her as they both smiled at the camera. As quickly as it had appeared, the hologram vanished, leaving Alex on his knees, staring at the locket. He had given it to her as a wedding present, and she hadn't taken it off since, not once in seven years. If Jason had it... "She's gone."

"I'm sorry, Alex."

"But I saw..." What had he seen, exactly? How could Selene have been there? Painful as it was, he _remembered_ lying there as she had died, incapable of moving, dying himself.

Wait a second. Dying? "How am I here?"

Jason shrugged as Alex took the locket. "I don't know. When we found you, your body had been crushed and you were in a coma. I was told that you wouldn't live through the night." He frowned, "Not that that was really an issue for anyone."

"What?"

Jason looked up, confused. "You don't know?"

Alex shook his head. "I remember you finding me on the _Albion_. I could hear you. The next thing I knew, I was at the Guardian of Forever. Everything else is blank."

Jason opened his mouth to speak, when a howl filled the alley, sending shivers running up Alex's spine. Both men turned to look in the direction it had come from, rising to their feet and looking back to each other. "Maybe we should keep this conversation for another time."

Alex nodded, and then began searching himself for weapons. That was when he noticed that his uniform was the red and black of command, not the yellow and black of engineering. "Red?"

"Yeah, you stole the uniform to get off the _Crichton_. We'll talk about that later." Jason pulled a phaser out of his uniform's belt, fitting the device over his hand. "At least one of us came prepared."

"Whatever." Alex pressed himself up against the wall, watching as Jason did the same. Both stared at the entrance to the alleyway, Jason's hand outstretched, phaser emitter glowing and ready to fire. There was a soft chirp in the back of his mind as his communicator activated, and Jason's voice filled his head. _Any idea what that was?_

_Not a clue. Give me a second._ Alex's nanites switched to tricorder mode, scanning the region around the alley. _Four life forms coming our way. Canine. Almost, anyway._

_Anything else?_

_Doesn't look like it. One humanoid life form a few blocks away, but it's not moving._

With a low growl, the four animals entered the alley, eyes glowing darkly as they searched the small space. They were large and thickly muscled, the tallest would reach Alex's shoulders when it was on all fours, and he was just over six feet tall. They sniffed at the air, and then began to growl more loudly, advancing slowly into the alley. Alex's muscles tensed as they came closer, ready to fight or run, whichever he ended up having to do. He watched Jason narrow his eyes as he pointed his open palm at the animals, carefully aiming his phaser between the eyes of the lead one. Neither of them knew where or when they were, or what these animals were, but they both recognized predators when they saw them.

Alex frowned, watching the beasts come closer. Something was wrong with this image. The ruins of a city could conceivably become a home for wildlife, but these animals seemed to be the only ones around aside from the life form a few blocks away. What did they hunt? Where did they get their food?

Hard answer: They've killed everything else.

Easy answer: They have keepers.

The thought ran through Alex's mind as the first animal fixed its gaze on him and snarled, showing a row of scimitar-like teeth. It made to jump him, it's hind legs gathering strength for the leap, when a ball of scarlet energy struck it in the face, sending it's corpse skidding into the three other creatures. Jason turned, the phaser still glowing. "Run!"

Alex spun out of the crevice in the wall and took off, hearing Jason fire a couple of more bursts before joining him. The howling of the three surviving beasts sounded behind them as the creatures shook off the corpse and started bounding down the alley, followed by a surprising sound.

Phaser fire.

The wall behind Alex exploded as staggered pulses struck it; blue plasma bolts ripping it apart. Taking a quick glance over his shoulder, Alex watched as a group of five aliens decloaked and continued firing at him and Jason. Tall and elegant, they looked almost like Vulcans, if you painted a Vulcan pure white and turned them into berserker warriors.

Reaching the far end of the alley, Alex and Jason glanced at each other, and then ran off in opposite directions. Jason followed the cracked and rubble-strewn remains of a road running down a steep hill, and Alex grabbed a fire escape ladder and began to climb up the side of a building.

Below him, the hunters split into two groups and followed.

---

Three blocks away, the semi-conscious woman dragged herself along the street, using the piled rubble to pull herself to her feet. As soon as she put weight on her broken left leg she screamed and fell to the ground, collapsing among the wreckage. The Jem'Hadar had not left her alone out of carelessness; they knew that she could not go far with her wounds. Angrily, she struck at the ground beneath her.

---

Weapons fire littered the street as Jason ran down the hill, lungs burning from breathing the polluted air. It seemed as though all he had done ever since the _Crichton_'s sensors had picked up the first supernova was run, and he was quickly getting tired. That had been, what? Two days ago? Three, maybe? Had he slept since then? Eaten? Probably not.

A blue plasma bolt struck the ground beside him, sending him jumping to the side to avoid the shrapnel the explosion spent spinning everywhere. Turning around, he fired his phaser back at his pursuers, watching as he struck one of the two in the chest. The humanoid seemed to simply shrug off the blow and continued running after him. Jason cursed and picked up speed.

_Wait a minute. Two? Where's the..._

He had just enough time to wonder where the third hunter was before it decloaked right in front of him, clotheslining him in the chest and knocking him to the ground. His head struck the hard ground with a crunch and stars exploded in his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw the three hunters and three surviving hounds surrounding him, the hounds slavering at their masters' heels.

_I really hate this place..._

---

Alex kicked in the glass window and swung off the ladder into the building, rolling as he hit the floor. He winced as the tiny shards of glass cut him in a dozen places, but got up and bolted out of the room, desperate to get away from the two aliens hunting him. Again, he searched the uniform he wore for anything that could help him and came away with a tiny disc held in the belt. A Personal Transport Unit, small, concealable, and only good for two transports. Cursing, he shoved it back into the belt.

_Now why couldn't I have found that two minutes ago?_

He heard the hunters enter the building, their heavy boots crushing the glass into powder as they stepped through the window. From their slow footfalls, Alex could tell that they were in no hurry to catch him, knowing that he likely had nowhere to go. Instead of staying outside and leaving his escape options open, he had trapped himself in a cage of his own making.

The floor creaked and gave way beneath his weight as he ran, collapsing after centuries of abandonment, and Alex found himself falling to the floor below. He struck hard and gasped as the air was forced from his lungs, rolling over and scrambling back to his feet to continue running.

A cracked duracrete wall loomed in front of him, the grey skies of this place showing through from the other side. Spinning around, he made to run in the other direction, back into the building, but was cut off when his pursuers leapt through the hole he had left in the ceiling, their bodies folding into predatory crouches as they landed before him. His heart pounding, Alex pressed himself back against the wall, hands desperately searching for something that could be used as a weapon. Between panting breaths, he found the strength to ask a question. "Who are you?"

The two aliens turned their heads and glanced at each other, silently communicating. Silence reigned in the decrepit hallway for long seconds, and then they turned back to Alex. Slowly, one stepped forward and grabbed him by the uniform collar, hoisting him into the air, appraising him with cold, undisguised malice.

A strange fact about Humans. For all their claims of civilization, of having a more evolved sensibility, when threatened, a Human can be just as dangerous as any cornered animal. Alex felt the adrenaline already pumping through him peak, and swung his right fist at the alien's temple. The punch connected with an audible crunch, and Alex screamed as he felt fingers break.

The alien flinched, then growled low in its throat. The sound seemed out of place from a creature with such graceful features, and through his pain, Alex felt this world he had found himself in grow even more alien.

The growl faded away, and Alex swore that the alien smiled as it threw him through the wall.

---

Jason winced as the black restraints cut into his wrists, drawing blood and scraping raw tissue. He could feel the bruising on his chest begin to form where the hunter had struck him, his ribs aching with every breath. He watched as the lead hunter examined the phaser they had removed from his hand, slipping it over his own appendage and pointing the dull emitter crystal at him.

"What is this weapon? How does it operate?"

The voice was deep and melodic, startling him with its softness. Jason frowned and cursed himself for allowing the phaser to fall into unknown hands. He should have been more careful. He'd violated the temporal prime directive by using the phaser in the first place. Now, they knew it was a weapon. Damn it. "Jason Madden. Commander. Serial Number One-One-Four-Nine-One-Alpha-Tw-"

The punch from the hunter to his right caught him in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Something cracked, and he spat a bloody molar out into the dirt. Looking back up at his assailant, he brought himself to his feet. "Jason Madden. Commander. Serial Nu-" This time he was struck in the chest, and he gasped with pain as he flew back and hit the ground. His ribs were on fire, and his vision swam. He rolled onto his side and curled up, trying to inhale the burning air. One of the hounds walked up to him and snarled in his face, it's rancid breath washing over him.

The leader stepped forward, pulling the phaser off his hand as he did, and grabbed Jason by the collar, lifting him into the air. Jason's feet dangled, trying to find purchase on the ground a foot below. "I asked you a question, Human. What is this weapon? I will not ask it again."

"Personal security. Short-term. Only good for six or seven shots before the power cell dies." His voice was a croak, each word flaring the pain in his chest. The hunter stared at him for a second, then dropped him.

"You lie, but perhaps your compatriot will be more forthcoming." The hunter raised his wrist and spoke into a device. "Fourth. Report." Jason looked up and stared. _Fourth...?_ The appellation sounded strangely familiar.

Two hunters decloaked half a block away, and marched straight towards the leader. Both drew themselves to their full height and stood in front of him. "First." Jason frowned. The ranks these creatures gave each other were frighteningly Jem'Hadar, but they looked nothing like the Jem'Hadar he knew from his reality. Coincidence?

"Where is the other human?"

"Dead."

Jason felt like he'd been kicked. Dead? Had Alex survived the destruction of the _Albion_, the _Crichton_, and the Universe itself just to die here?

Did that mean that now he was alone?

The lead hunter, First, was not happy. He backhanded the reporting hunter (_Fourth?_) and pulled a curved dagger from his belt. Fourth stood to find a knife at his throat. First's voice was a whisper, and Jason had to strain to hear it. "Dead how?"

"He fell. The wall of the building he was in collapsed, and he fell from the sixteenth level."

"Then where is his body?"

Fourth snarled up at his leader. "We did not search for it. He could not have survived."

Jason watched as First slit Fourth's throat, letting the body slump to the ground. First turned to the other returning hunter. "You are now Fourth. Find the Human's body, or share your predecessor's fate. Victory is life."

"Victory is life." The new Fourth bowed and turned, heading back the way he had come. These were Jem'Hadar, Jason was sure of it. That last display had proved it to him, but the question remained. Why did they look so different?

First picked him up off the ground and held him up, appraising him with cold blue eyes. "Your companion is dead."

Jason grinned through bloody teeth. "I don't know about that. He's got a nasty habit of coming back."

---

Alex had fallen three stories when his fingers had finally found the Transporter, pressing the energize button and enveloping him in the transport beam. With no specifically inputted coordinates, the device had simply scanned for the nearest clear surface and sent him there, which in this case, had been two feet above the roof of the building he had been thrown out of.

Brushing himself off, he lifted himself to his feet, wincing at the pain from his broken fingers. With any luck, he'd be able to find a medkit to take care of that. Who would have thought that thing would've had such a thick skull? They probably thought he was dead, which meant they wouldn't be hunting him any more. Still, should keep on the move. Just in case.

_Jason? I'm okay. What's your status?_ Alex stopped when he realized that the communication channel between him and Jason wasn't opening. A quick diagnostic showed that his nanites were working perfectly, so the problem wasn't on his end. Alex frowned and switched to tricorder mode, scanning the area.

There he was. Three blocks away, and surrounded. _Damn_. So why wasn't he answering? Could his nanites have been damaged? Maybe. Which meant that they couldn't communicate from a distance. Damn again.

Alex leaned his arms on the edge of the roof and bowed his head, taking a minute to collect himself. This was just too much. He could barely remember anything that happened after Selene... _Don't go there. Not right now..._ and now all of this? Rescue Jason from aliens he knew nothing about, in a world he knew nothing about? _How am I supposed to do that when I don't even know where I am?_ The bitter thought ran through his mind as he lifted his head and stared out at the ruined city.

_Wait a minute._

Alex squinted, his eyes running over ruins that stretched for miles in every direction. A couple of kilometres away, a pyramid-like structure burned, which was what must be causing the smoke and the heat, but it was the rest that held his interest. This city looked familiar. Take away the blast craters, the giant crevice running through the city, rebuild the buildings, that bridge, paint... it... gold...

_Gold..._

"Oh my God."

He was in San Francisco.

He was home.

---

First watched with a degree of amusement as their new Human prisoner stumbled over the wreckage in the middle of the street, falling forward and unable to catch himself with his bound hands. The Human's face was a mass of bruises, one eye swollen shut and the other bloodshot. Third lifted the Human back to his feet and pushed him forward more roughly than was necessary. The Human caught himself before falling again, and glared over his shoulder at Third. First found himself almost admiring the Human's courage. Most of the Humans left on this planet were broken, useless things. This one, though, like the one they had hunted earlier, had spirit.

First stopped as Fourth appeared before him, emerging from his shroud into the street. First frowned and arched an eyebrow at Fourth's empty hands. "Where is the Human?"

"I was unable to locate the corpse. I offer my life in payment."

First watched Fourth's corpse slide to the ground and turned back to the Human. A savage backhand sent the prisoner flying, blood spraying between pulped lips. "Where is he?"

The Human made a strange gargling sound, and it took First a moment to realize that he was laughing. "Told ya. I told ya he wasn't dead. Kinda startin' to wonder what it would take."

First lifted the Human into the air and threw him into a wall, smiling as the laughter stopped, replaced with pain-filled gasps. "Where is he?"

"I don't know!" First grasped the Human's chest, listening to him scream. "I don't know! I swear to God I don't know where he is!" Disgusted, First dropped him and stormed away, leaving Second and Third to lift the sobbing Human off the ground. They were close to where they had left their original prisoner now. They would take these two back to the encampment and then hunt down this last one.

The march was silent, broken only by the pained gasps of their prisoner. In the road ahead, First could see the female lying in the street. She had managed to move several meters, but no more than that before losing consciousness. Glancing over his shoulder at Third, he indicated her body. Third let go of the other Human and picked up the female.

The male gasped just before a shard of duracrete struck First in the head.

---

Alex broke into a full run as the lead Hunter stumbled, clutching at the spot where the duracrete he had thrown had struck. He watched as the two hunters left standing turned to face him, dropping Jason and their other prisoner. As he ran, he opened a link between his nanites and the mini-computer in Jason's phaser and entered a code.

The phaser overloaded in the leader's hands, the explosion of the power cell sending the charred corpse flying. Debris flew everywhere, and the two surviving hunters blinked in the light of the explosion, blinded for a split second. Alex could see the hounds spinning around and bounding for them. Desperate, he made to tackle Jason, the transporter clutched in his hand, coordinates set for it's final transport.

Jason sidestepped.

Alex found himself holding the other prisoner, his fingers hitting the energize key of their own accord. As he watched the world fade away into the transporter beam, he saw the hounds leap for both him and Jason. The one flew through him and the woman he held, but the other found its mark, knocking Jason to the ground. "Take her!" Jason screamed as he hit the street.

Then the street, the hunters and Jason were all gone, replaced by darkness. Alex coughed in the stale air. "Computer! Activate systems. Authorization Emergency Seven-Two-Two-Alpha." _I hope this works._ Fresh air was pumped in as lights activated one by one, revealing the transporter room of one of the Starfleet Command bunkers beneath San Francisco. According to history, this bunker had only been used once, by Jean-Luc Picard during the Breen attack on Earth during the Dominion war centuries ago.

The woman moaned as the lights came on and Alex shifted her weight, noticing her shattered leg. "Easy. Easy, I've got you." Alex knelt and laid her down on the floor of the transporter, then stood and grabbed a medkit from the wall. "Everything's going to be okay. Everything-"

The bone-knitter he had pulled from the kit fell from suddenly nerveless fingers, and Alex felt himself stagger backwards. Even through the mass of bruises, he could recognize her. He knew that face better than he knew his own. _Oh my God..._

Selene lay unconscious on the floor in front of him, and Alex could only stare.

Author's notes:  
The Bunker: It has actually been used in Star Trek, though not on-screen. The story of Picard and the Breen attack is referenced in the _Tales of the Dominion War_ short story "Eleven Hours Out" by Dave Galanter.


	12. Eurydice in the Pit, Ch 4

**Eurydice in the Pit, Chapter Four  
**

"_The word, Sir?"  
"The word... is no. I am therefore going anyway."_

_-Cmdr. Hikaru Sulu and Adm. James T. Kirk "Star Trek III: The Search for Spock"_

---

David Aldair was having a bad day.

He mused on this point as he and his first officer stood at attention in front of the shuttlebay doors, waiting for the bay to repressurize. So far, he had gotten into an argument with the Vulcan Trade Committee over payment for his cargo (and don't think that _that_ wasn't fun), had to walk across Shi'Kahr city at noon to get back to his shuttle, and then he had been up to his elbows in a warp manifold when he'd been told that Starfleet Intelligence was on their way to talk to him.

Fun day.

He was normally a patient man, but Intelligence agents always put him on edge. Nothing personal, it was just that whenever they were out in the open and away from the Remnant, they ran the risk of revealing the _Harsesis_ as a Starfleet ship to the Khanate. If that happened, his crew would be executed and his ship ripped to pieces. The Khanate didn't like Starfleeters terribly much.

Not that he liked Starfleet Intelligence much better.

The light beside the airlock flashed from red to blue, showing pressurization on the other side of the door. With a hiss of air pressure, the door swung open and a woman stepped through and stopped in front of Aldair. Her dark hair was pulled back into an elaborate braid, and almond eyes looked up at him. Aldair wasn't a tall man, just under six feet, but this woman was six or seven inches shorter than he was, not to mention at least twenty-five years younger than his own fifty-six years.

And dressed in the black on black of Starfleet Intelligence.

Aldair drew himself to his full height and saluted, "Captain David Aldair, commanding officer, _USS Harsesis_. Welcome aboard, ma'am."

"Commander Mitchell Santos, First Officer." The woman barely glanced at Commander Santos' tall form, keeping her green eyes trained on Aldair. His salute never wavered, but he began to feel uncomfortable.

"Serra Asuka." The woman presented a datapad, and Aldair took it. Confirmation of her identity and rank. "As of this moment, I am in command of the _Harsesis_. I will speak with you in my ready room, Captain. Now."

Aldair watched as Asuka walked off down the corridor towards his ready room, the datapad still in his hand.

Santos gaped. "Sir, did she just...?"

"Yes."

"And are we...?"

"Yes."

"And now...?"

"Excuse me, Commander. I apparently have a meeting to attend to." Aldair left Santos' shocked form behind, his teeth grinding in irritation. Unbelievably, his bad day had just gotten worse.

---

By the time he had arrived at his ready room, Asuka had already seated herself behind his desk and accessed his computer files, analysing them with a critical eye. The kettle was already heating up on the hotpad, a mug of tea sitting beside it, waiting to be prepared. Aldair frowned. Five minutes ago, this had been his office.

"You wanted to see me, ma'am?"

Aldair seethed at how calm his voice sounded. This woman had just taken his ship from him with no explanation, not to mention the fact that she had treated him like an ensign in front of his first officer, and now she had turned his office into someplace uncomfortable. The fact that she looked like she was barely out of her teens just annoyed him all the more.

Asuka glanced up from the computer and lifted a hand, silencing him. "A moment, Captain." The kettle began to whistle, steam pouring from the spout. Turning around, she lifted an elegant hand and turned it off, pouring the water into the waiting mug. Without a word, she replaced the kettle and lifted the mug, holding it double-handed as she returned her attention to the screen. With a final series of keystrokes, she turned the computer around so that Aldair could see the display. "Do you recognize this woman, Captain?"

The face on the screen was that of a woman in her early-thirties, with slightly slanted brown eyes and dark hair cut to her leather clad shoulders. One corner of her lips was raised in a small grin, as if she knew a joke that she wasn't telling. Aldair thought of one of the first rules of interrogation: _Never ask a question you don't know the answer to._ "Of course I do. Selene Weller, _Icarus'_ captain."

"Hmm. And what do you know of her latest mission, Captain?"

"Not much. I only know that she's in the Sol system, and that I'm supposed to stay here to rendezvous with her when the mission's done."

"Hmm."

Aldair could actually feel his blood pressure rising. Psychology 101: Keep the other person waiting, it keeps you in control. "Has there been a problem with her mission, ma'am?"

Asuka took a sip of tea and set the mug down before answering. "Captain Weller's mission was to destroy the Khanate Communications Array on Earth. Given the fact that Khanate military communications went down two and a half days ago, we can safely assume that the mission was a success. I'm here to reassign you."

"Reassign, ma'am?"

"As soon as _Icarus_ returns, you are to escort Captain Weller back to the Federation Remnant for debriefing."

Aldair frowned. "Ma'am. After rendezvousing with Captain Weller, we were supposed to continue a cargo run to Alpha Centauri in order to maintain cover."

"Not anymore. Starfleet Command has decided that both you and Captain Weller have been away from the Remnant for too long. We would like to know what you have learned about the state of affairs in the galaxy."

"But, ma'am, we could easily submit a report and send it back via shuttlecraft."

Asuka leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. "You don't seem to understand, Captain. This is not a suggestion. You _will_ return to Command. Is that clear?"

Aldair snapped to attention. "Yes, ma'am."

"Very good. Dismissed." She turned the computer back around to face her and took another sip of tea. Aldair spun on his heel and left the room.

Obviously, the discussion was over.

---

"Can't you get any more speed out of this thing?"

Tal tightened his grip on the steering yoke, grimacing as Nyssa nagged behind him. After almost three days, her constant nagging was beginning to get on his nerves. "Fun driving with kids." He muttered under his breath. More loudly, he said "You asked that an hour ago, and the answer now is the same as the answer then. No. The engines are running hot as it is. Do you want to blow up before we get there? Because we'd do the Skipper a lot of good that way."

"Do you have to be so sarcastic?" Nyssa slumped down into her seat, arms folded across her chest, sulking. "I just wish I knew what was going on back there."

"As do we all." Kordath turned in his chair to look at her. The Klingon had been in slightly better spirits since the talk Tal had with him a few days ago, looking more towards the rescue mission ahead rather than the failed mission behind. Honestly, Tal was relieved. Having a miserable Klingon on board was like being caught in a hurricane. Dark, gloomy with lots of things flying around at high speeds.

Nyssa, however, had spent most of the past few days in her sickbay, stocking up, cleaning up and generally doing anything she could to avoid thinking about the Skipper. At this point, sickbay was the cleanest room on the ship, all the tools organized and shined to the point you could see your reflection in them. Tal had stepped in there to tell her they were a few hours out from Vulcan and nearly been blinded by the shine. It had taken half an hour for the afterimage to fade away.

As for himself, he had spent most of his time on the bridge, staring out the windows at the streaking lines of warpspace, keeping silent for once. He'd grown up on the streets of Dhakur province back on Bajor, never having known his parents. The Skipper was the closest thing he'd ever had to a mother and to leave her behind like that... It grated on him.

The flip attitude aside, he was scared to death.

An alarm started beeping on his console, and Tal shook himself out of the thought. Time enough for that... well, never. Flicking a switch, he took a look at the readout. "Here we are. Lady and Gentle-Klingon, welcome to Vulcan, where it's a lovely hundred and fifty degrees in the shade."

Nyssa lifted the subspace radio, clicking the transmitter. "This is the cargo vessel _Icarus_ to Vulcan Orbital Control. Request permission to enter orbit."

The radio was silent for a moment before it crackled. "Cargo vessel _Icarus_, this is Vulcan Orbital Control. Your arrival is unexpected. Please explain."

Nyssa rolled her eyes. Vulcans. Couldn't they just say yes or no? "Our Captain heard that the cargo hauler _Harsesis_ is in system. She thought that she'd pay a visit if possible." Tal looked over his shoulder at the flimsy excuse. Nyssa just shrugged. _Think you can do better?_ She mouthed. Tal shook his head and turned back to his controls.

"_Harsesis_ is in polar orbit. Please slow to one-quarter impulse for approach."

"Acknowledged, Orbital Control. _Icarus _clear." Placing the transmitter back on the console, she turned to Tal. "You heard him."

Tal pulled back on a slide, watching as the stars around the ship faded from warp lines back to pinpricks. Vulcan loomed in front of them, it's dusky red form filling the windows. In orbit, ships of various types and sizes flitted around. "Slowing to one-quarter impulse and adjusting course for polar orbit."

Nyssa's console beeped at her, "Khanate vessel on approach!"

Tal bolted upright. "Where the Hell did it come from?"

"Must have already been in orbit. One minute to intercept."

"Tal. Stay the course."

Tal gaped at Kordath, who was simply staring out the window at the approaching _Kindjal_. "You're kidding me, right?"

"If we run, they will know something is wrong." Kordath shook his head, "At the moment, they may not know who we are and what we have done. Stay the course. If we do not run, they will not pursue."

"Right. Right." Tal gently guided the ship onto the course the Vulcans had laid out for him, heading for the planet's northern pole. Outside, the Khanate ship was close enough that he could see the gunports on it's black surface. With shaking hands, he kept flying in a straight line, watching the ship grow closer with every second. Squeezing his eyes shut, he waited for the inevitable explosion.

The ship sailed right past them.

Opening one eye, Tal looked around. "We still alive?"

Kordath had not even moved from his console. "Apparently."

"Oh." Tal relaxed and opened his other eye. "Good, then." Heart thumping in his chest faster than _Icarus_ could fly, he slumped back in his chair. "Any ideas why that happened?"

Kordath looked over his shoulder at him. "It would be most likely for a Khanate vessel to be in orbit. Vulcan is large trading centre."

"Oh yeah. Okay."

"Hey, guys." Nyssa stood and pointed out the window. "There she is."

_Harsesis_ loomed in front of them, her dull grey hull reflecting the red light of Vulcan's sun. At some point in the past, she had been an _Excelsior_ class ship, and she still had the basic shape, but the modifications and repairs had been so extensive that she barely resembled it anymore. The once curved lower hull was now angled and cut for cargo pods. The right and left nacelles had been replaced years ago and no longer matched the rest of the design.

And this was the pride of Starfleet.

"Tal, bring us alongside the port saucer airlock." Kordath reached for the radio, thumbing the transmitter. "_Harsesis_, this is _Icarus_. Respond."

"_Icarus, this is Harsesis. Welcome to Vulcan. How was your cargo run?"_

All three of them frowned. Kordath re-opened the channel. "Satisfactory. I wish to speak with Captain Aldair."

A pause. "_Aldair."_

"Captain. This is Kordath."

_"Kordath? Where's Selene?"_

Kordath growled low in his throat at the question. "May we board, Captain?"

The pause that followed was even longer than the first. _"Permission granted. I'll meet you in the mess hall."_

"Understood. Commencing approach." Kordath replaced the transmitter and nodded at Tal. Guiding the ship closer to the much larger _Harsesis_, Tal muttered under his breath. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

There was that sarcasm again.

---

In her seventy-three years, Nyssa T'Len had been many things. Rebellious child, medical practitioner, slave, and finally shipboard medic and revolutionary. At the moment, however, she was something else entirely.

She was angry.

Her palms slapped down hard on the table as she leaned forward towards Serra Asuka and screamed into her face. "What by the cold fingers of Erebus do you mean 'We're not going back'!"

To her credit, Asuka didn't even flinch. "Exactly what I stated, Ms. T'Len. _Icarus_ and _Harsesis_ are to return home. There is nothing to be gained by this rescue mission."

Her face flushed jade straight to the tips of her pointed ears. "_Nothing to be gained..._! Nothing to be..." With an inarticulate scream, she cracked the table in half. That got nothing but an arched eyebrow from the Intelligence officer. Small hands grabbed her left arm while much larger ones grabbed her by the right.

"Nyssa! Calm down!"

The Romulan medic struggled against Tal and Kordath's grips, anger quickly rising to bloodlust as her Romulan heritage made it's presence known.

"Nyssa!"

The green haze covering her vision dissipated as Kordath's voice snapped her back to reality. Still breathing hard, she looked at the Klingon, then at Tal. Raising a shaky finger, she pointed at Asuka. "You heard what she said?"

Kordath nodded, "I did."

"And you're not ripping her arms off, why?"

Kordath released her arm and turned back to Asuka, shooting a glance at Captain Aldair, who stood at attention behind the slight woman. Even in her anger, Nyssa could see that Aldair was almost visibly shaking with anger. So why was he agreeing with this... woman? "Might I ask why we are not being allowed to retrieve the Captain?"

"You may ask."

Nyssa broke free from Tal's grip and approached the Intelligence officer. "Might I remind you, _Ms. _Asuka, that the only Starfleet officer on board _Icarus_ would be the Captain herself. The rest of us are just crew on a cargo ship. We don't have to do what Starfleet Intelligence tells us."

Asuka stood, bringing herself face to face with Nyssa. The short human looked up into Nyssa's eyes, her own green eyes hard. "That may be true, but may I remind you, Ms. T'Len, _Icarus_ is Starfleet property. You may go wherever you wish. Your ship, however, will remain here. Good day." And with that, Asuka left the mess hall.

Nyssa spun on Aldair, hair flying out behind her. "Captain!"

Aldair lifted his hands in the air, his palms splayed towards her. "I know. I know. I want to go back for her, too. Selene's like my daughter, you think I want to leave her there?" He seemed to deflate before their eyes, hanging his head. "But I have my orders. And I _am_ Starfleet."

Aldair turned and walked away, closing the mess hall hatch behind him and leaving the three members of _Icarus_' crew alone.

Tal pulled a chair out from a table and sat down, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "So. What now?"

Nyssa slumped in a chair of her own, kicking at the broken table. "Well, we're obviously not going to get any help from Starfleet. Surprise, surprise."

Kordath remained silent, staring at the hatch that led into the rest of the ship. Suddenly, he spun around and threw a chair against the wall, watching it shatter and dent the bulkhead. Both Nyssa and Tal jumped, staring as the debris fell to the floor. "_may'meyDajvo' Haw'be' tlhIngan!_" Wild eyes met the others. "I did not come all this way to merely leave her behind! I gave my oath that we will return, and I intend to do so, with or without the _Harsesis_!

"She has bled for us, can we do any less for her?"

Nyssa shook her head. "I'm not going to leave her back there." They both turned and looked at Tal, who shrugged.

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm about to take up theft again?"

---

Aldair stood at the door, listening to the discussion. He had returned when he heard the table strike the wall, and stopped at the sound of their voices. Casting a glance over his shoulder at the hallway Asuka had vanished down, he walked away in the other direction.

After all, it wasn't as though he had heard anything worth reporting.

With a smile, he began to walk towards the bridge. It seemed as though his day had just gotten a little better.

---

Asuka stepped into the darkened quarters she had adopted aboard the _Harsesis_ and closed the hatch behind her. Secure in the darkness, she mentally counted to ten before she relaxed, feeling the shivers come over her and her breath shorten. The pain began deep in her stomach, tearing outwards as though it were a creature trying to get free. Gasping, she dropped to her knees and pulled herself along the floor towards the case she had brought along on the shuttle. With shuddering hands, she opened the lid and dropped the contents onto the floor.

A half dozen cylindrical pills spilled out onto the deck, rolling away from her. Desperately grabbing at one, she lifted it to her lips and swallowed, the pain vanishing almost instantly. Lying on her back, she allowed the slight feeling of euphoria to wash over her as she felt the change begin deep in her cells, altering her genetic structure.

Alone in the dark room, she began to laugh.

"All for you. All for you. All for you."

**Author's Notes:**

Sheesh, I feel like I'm on a roll here, hopefully making up time for that MAJOR hiatus between "To Stand on the Edge of Forever" and "Eurydice in the Pit".Grayangle, as far as Jason's future is concerned, you'll have to watch and see. The only promise I can make is that it's not going to be pretty, even if it is interesting.

References used for this chapter: Thank heaven for small favours like Marc Okrand's Klingon Dictionary and "The Klingon Way: A Warrior's Guide". _may'meyDajvo' Haw'be' tlhIngan! _Translates to "A Klingon does not run away from his battles". Thank you, Mr. Okrand.


	13. Eurydice in the Pit, Ch 5

**Eurydice in the Pit, Chapter Five  
**

"_Stories often have happy endings. It's life that throws you for a loop."_

_-_Dr. Ira Graves, _"The Schizoid Man"_

---

It was the itch that woke her.

She had lain in the darkness for an interminable amount of time, drowning in the cold waters of unconsciousness. Slowly, the nerves of her left leg began to wake, pins and needles dancing along it's length, forcing her subconscious mind to rise up into the light.

With effort, she forced her eyes open, wincing against the glow of the fluorescent lights above her. Her hand lifted of it's own accord to rub at her face, brushing her shoulder length hair out of the way. A headache was starting, it's repetitious thrumming pounding at her temples. A groan escaped her lips as she pulled herself to a sitting position, squinting at the room she found herself in.

Smooth metal walls, some with flickering light sources, stood at her four sides. She herself was seated on a cot, a silvery blanket covering her from the shoulders to her feet. Unsteadily, she pivoted, placing first one foot, then the other, on the floor, pushing herself to her feet, preparing herself for the expected backwash of pain.

Nothing except the itch.

She frowned, patting at the leg. She knew it had been broken, along with several ribs. Reaching beneath her leather jacket, she pressed on her ribcage, feeling nothing except a dull ache when she pushed down. She'd had broken bones before, and she knew that they didn't heal this quickly, or heal without the muscles atrophying. She glanced down at the cot. How long exactly had she been unconscious?

And where exactly was she?

She had been hunted by the Jem'Hadar, she could remember that, along with the beating they had given her. After that, the details were fuzzier. She had a vague memory of a man racing towards her, holding her as the Jem'Hadar vanished around them, and then nothing but darkness. Darkness and a voice telling her that she would be alright. _Everything's going to be okay..._

Unsettled, she reached down and grabbed at the holster she kept on her right thigh, feeling it's emptiness. Her phaser must have fallen out at some point. She was unarmed.

Slowly, she stepped towards the door to the room, reaching out to push it open. With a hiss and a grinding noise, it slid open about halfway before catching. She jumped back, watching the door try to close, but just grinding back and forth over the space of an inch or so. Stepping into the space, she pushed it open all the way, watching it slide into the wall and stop with an electronic sounding beep. An automated door. Even if it was faulty, it raised the question again. Where was she?

Trying to stay as quiet as possible, she walked down the hallway, passing what looked to be a darkened transporter room. A quick glance showed her that it was inactive, circuits of a type she had never seen strewn about the floor. Was this how she had gotten here? A transporter?

Would she be able to use it to get out again?

The hallway ended when it reached what appeared to be a control room, a series of consoles surrounding two chairs. A large screen dominated one wall, darkened at the moment just like the consoles. Overhead lights flickered slightly, but the man in the center of the room didn't even seem to notice.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, circuit boards and opened conduits scattered all around him, a micro-tool kit at his feet. He was dressed in a torn and dirt-streaked black and red uniform, brown hair mussed with several days worth of beard on his face. In his hands, he was fiddling with a small silver disc, using the micro-tools from the kit to make adjustments to the inside.

A small puff of smoke rose from the disc, and the man jerked as it burnt his hands. "Dammit!" he screamed as he threw the disc across the room, watching it bounce against the screen. "Dammit dammit dammit!" Rising to his feet, he winced slightly and kicked an exposed circuit board.

His voice was familiar, jarring loose the memory of the man who had saved her from the Jem'Hadar, his voice soft as he told her that things would be alright. She cleared her throat, and watched him slowly turn to look at her. "Might work better if you didn't throw it."

She couldn't explain the look on his face as she spoke. It was the look people had when hope was kindled, and then crushed almost instantly. His face was white, and it was as though he had seen a ghost. They stared at each other for a long moment, and he shook his head, looked away, and when he looked back, the expression was gone.

"You're awake."

She looked around and shrugged. Whoever this man was, he didn't seem to be a danger. "I was wondering about that myself. Not sure if I'm awake or hallucinating." Taking in their dingy surroundings, she frowned. "Of course, if I'm hallucinating, even I should be able to come up with something better than this. How long was I out?"

The man turned around and began picking the circuit boards up off the floor. "Three days or so. I was starting to get worried."

_Three days?_ If she had only been unconscious for three days... "My leg was broken..."

He nodded and answered without even looking at her. "In three places. You also had four broken or cracked ribs, and a little internal bleeding."

That made no sense. "If I was hurt that badly, it should have taken months to heal, not to mention the physiotherapy."

He shrugged. "Med kit in the transporter room. The power cells were getting low, but the bone-knitter and the cellular-regenerator still had enough power to fix you up. Mostly, anyways. I'd be careful about any heavy lifting for a while."

"Okay, I guess that answers my first question. Think you can answer the other million or so?"

He fell back into one of the chairs, "Shoot."

"Where are we?"

"San Francisco Memorial Bunker, about a thousand meters beneath the surface. Give or take."

She felt her jaw drop, and she looked around. "The Memorial Bunker...? So this is where Jean-Luc Picard..."

"Fought off the Breen attacking Earth during the Dominion War. Yeah."

She walked around, her fingers running over the consoles. "This place has been lost since the bombardment of San Francisco. How did you know where it was?" She turned and looked at him, "Who are you?"

A brief look of sadness flickered across his face, as though the question itself had answered one of his own with something he hadn't wanted to know. It was strange, it felt as though he knew her somehow.

He got to his feet and looked at her, pain evident on his face as he answered her. "My name is Alex Carver. I'm a lieutenant in Starfleet, and this is going to sound strange, but it's the truth.

"I'm from another reality."

And Selene Weller could only stare.

-----

Tal waved hello to the two burly cargohands standing at the airlock hatch. Both merely seemed to glance at him as he walked up. "Hey guys. What's going on?"

No answer.

"Having fun? I mean, you've been in orbit of Vulcan for a week now, you had time to get down there? Sure, it's kinda hot, but the women... whoo. Those pointy ears..." Both cargohands looked down at him, giving him the look he'd reserve for a particularly ugly bug. Didn't stop him, though. He threw his arms around their shoulders, one at each side. "The things those women can teach you. I mean, sure, they're all "Logic and Manners and Cold Shoulders" when you start, but, oh my, what they can teach you once they warm up to you. I knew this Vulcan woman once, what was her name? Oh yeah, T'Pren. That was it. T'Pren. Nice pair of ears on her, y'know what I'm saying? Y'know?"

Neither seemed impressed. Tal shrugged and forged on. "Anyway, once we got 'acquainted', the stuff she taught me. Wow. Has all sorts of uses. I mean, one of the things she taught me was how to do this."

Tal watched as he pinched the nerves at the base of their necks, both men dropping to the floor as their eyes rolled up into their sockets. Kordath and Nyssa stepped around the bend in the corridor, walking up behind him as he turned and started working on the hatch's lock. Both looked down at the unconscious guards, surprise on their faces. Nyssa looked at Tal. "I didn't know you knew how to do that."

Tal shrugged as he plugged a small device into the lock, watching it cycle through combinations. "Hey, that T'Pren taught me all sorts of stuff. She was pretty cute, too. If you've got a thing for pointed ears." He grinned over his shoulder at the Romulan.

The handheld unit beeped, and the airlock hatch unlocked. Unplugging the computer, Tal tucked it back into his coat pocket as Kordath swung the hatch open. Together, the three of them walked through and back onto their ship.

-----

The hatch to the bridge creaked open, and Aldair winced at the noise. Looking over his shoulder at the source of the sound, he watched as Serra Asuka stepped through and closed the hatch behind her. Aldair frowned, the Intelligence agent hadn't been seen since she had left the meeting in the mess hall two hours ago, locking herself in her quarters after ordering him to put _Icarus_ under guard. With a critical eye, she made her way around the bridge, staring over the shoulders of his crew and evaluating their work. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from scowling, finding the pain preferable to dealing with Asuka.

Her circuit of the bridge complete, she stepped directly up to him and stared down at his seated form. A battle of wills began for the command chair, a battle he lost when he remembered the signed orders giving her command. With a wave, he stepped aside, allowing her to sink into his chair. "Is everything satisfactory, ma'am?"

"Well enough." She barely glanced at him with her reply. "How long until we are ready to depart Vulcan orbit?"

"We're receiving final clearance now. We should be underway within half an hour."

"Good. And the _Icarus_?"

"Will be in tow the entire way. We can't spare a crew for her at this time."

Asuka's eyes flicked upwards at his face, and Aldair bit down even harder on his cheek. He hadn't actually done anything against orders, he had simply... _neglected_... to act in complete accordance with those orders. If Asuka had given a reason for abandoning Selene better than just "because", perhaps he would have stepped up security around _Icarus_' hatch to stop the inevitable theft.

Of course, she hadn't, so...

Asuka refocused her attention on the readouts in front of her. "Very well, Captain. If a crew cannot be spared, they cannot be spared."

Aldair breathed a mental sigh of relief. He wasn't used to being the rebel. How did Selene do it all the time?

"Captain?"

The voice came from Dan Ryter, a young lieutenant at the back of the bridge, sitting at the shipboard operations table. Aldair looked back at him, "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"There's something strange going on with _Icarus_, Sir."

This time when he bit down, he actually tasted blood. Asuka stood and made her way back to Ryter's station. "'Strange', Lieutenant? Perhaps you can define the word 'strange'."

Ryter nodded his head so vigorously Aldair was sure it would fall off. "Yes, ma'am. She's been cut off from our power system. She seems to be running on her own power now."

_Here we go._ Asuka frowned and looked up at Aldair, a furious look on her face. "Think you can explain this, Captain?"

Aldair frowned and drew himself to his full height. No matter what he'd done, he wasn't going to let this _child_ insinuate these things in front of his crew. "I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am, and I resent the implication."

Asuka glared at him, and then turned to the woman at communications. "Open a channel to the _Icarus._" Bev Folson nodded and the channel chirped open. "_Icarus_, this is _Harsesis_. Stop what you're doing immediately."

Silence filled the bridge for a long moment, then a voice crackled over the speakers. "_This is Kordath. Stand aside."_

"Mr. Kordath, this is theft. Stand down."

"_We will not the Captain behind. You cannot stop us."_

_"Yeah, back off, lady, before we make you!"_

_"Tal, will you shut up and get us outta here?"_

_Harsesis _shook as _Icarus_ retracted the docking port and broke free, cutting herself off and drifting further away from Vulcan's orbit. Aldair watched the smaller ship appear on the forward viewscreen, her engines beginning to glow as she powered up for the jump to warp. Asuka spun around. "Shoot them down!"

"We can't, ma'am! There's still a Khanate ship in orbit. If we fire on _Icarus,_ we'll break our cover. They'll fire on us!"

With a flash on the screen, _Icarus_ jumped to warp, a single starburst appearing seconds later along her path. Aldair wanted to allow himself a small grin, but couldn't afford to. Not if he wanted to save his career. Silently, he sent a thought along _Icarus_' flight path. _Bring her home._

Asuka looked back at Aldair, her jaw twitching. For a second, she looked much older and much more dangerous. A mania seemed to lurk in her eyes, one that she kept barely under control. Her hands started to shake in her anger. "Commander Santos?"

Santos stood, "Yes, ma'am?"

"Please escort Captain Aldair to his quarters. After that, please check the status of the guards at the airlock _Icarus_ was docked at." She walked up to Aldair, and for a second he was tempted to take a step back from her. "You're confined to your quarters, Captain, and relieved of your duties until I say otherwise."

Santos placed his hand on Aldair's shoulder and gently pulled him towards the hatch. "Sir."

As he turned to walk off the bridge, he heard Asuka mutter a single word under her breath, quietly enough that he was the only one to hear her.

Traitors.

-----

The hound hadn't killed him.

Jason woke from the attack in a cell, cool air on his face. A quick look showed him that he was covered in bruises and cuts, some deep, but he was alive. One of the strange Jem'Hadar stood on the other side of the cell entrance, arms folded across his chest, staring. Long white hair fell to the middle of his back, some of it hanging in braids, contrasting with the black leather armour he wore. Silver bands highlighted the armour in places, specifically around his gauntleted fists and the twin energy weapons mounted on his forearms. His eyes nearly shone ice blue, glowing from the ghostly pale face.

"I am Herma'Taklan, Commander of this installation."

A flicker of humour crossed Jason's mind, "Nice to meet you. Great place you got here."

The Jem'Hadar laughed, and Jason fell back in surprise. A Jem'Hadar with a sense of humour? "Be thankful for our installation, Human. Without it, you would be quite dead. Though I must admit, several of my warriors wish to kill you themselves for the deaths of Gal'Makan, Torak and Quor'Maldan."

"Those must be the guys I met out there, huh?"

"They were great hunters, though they seem to have underestimated you and your friend."

Jason stood, rising from the bunk he had been lying on, and walked up to the flickering forcefield that separated them. Jem'Hadar weren't usually considered great conversationalists. What made these ones so different? "Don't know what you're talking about."

Herma'Taklan stepped forward, until he was almost touching the forcefield. "While our surgeons were repairing most of the damage to your body, they discovered some rather interesting things about you, Human. Most notably, a group of inactive nanites implanted in your brainstem."

Jason's hand shot up and touched the back of his neck, rubbing just below his hair. He tried to run a diagnostic, but was met with silence. His eyes darted back and forth as he ordered his nanites to link him with Alex, but they did nothing. His nanites were completely silent, dead. They must have shorted out when First clotheslined him and he had hit his head on the rubble.

He was alone.

The Jem'Hadar arched an eyebrow as he watched Jason rub the back of his neck. "Why would I lie, Human? What possible gain would that give me?" Jason dropped his hand to his side, giving up on the nanites. Without a fully stocked sickbay, he wouldn't be able to repair them. He hadn't been without the nanites since graduating from the academy. Now, without them, his communicator, tricorder and the Starfleet database were gone.

Herma'Taklan nodded, his hair waving with the motion. "Another thing of interest to me. Your quantum signature does not seem to match ours."

Jason cursed to himself. Everything in the Universe operated on a quantum level, the signature unique to that Universe alone. Research had shown that an infinite number of possible alternate realities existed, each one with it's own signature. If they knew that his was different...

Herma'Taklan smiled, "I know what you think, Human, and yes, we do know.

"We know that you are from another reality."

-----

Alex shifted the pack on his back as he and Selene made their way up the stairs, a pair of ancient handheld flashlights guiding the way. The bunker only had two entrances, the transporter and a staircase that connected it with Starfleet Command Headquarters. According to Selene, Command and the Academy had been bombed pretty severely during the Khanate attack on Earth six hundred years ago. Debris may have fallen down the shaft.

She hadn't said much about these Khanate, only that the Federation had fallen during a war with them, and that they now controlled the majority of the Milky Way. He was still having trouble getting used to the idea of a Universe without the Federation.

Not to mention getting used to her.

It tore him up inside, having her standing beside him. He knew that she wasn't his Selene, but she was so much like her that it hurt. The easy smile, the jokes, the sound of her voice. He could almost close his eyes and believe...

No. No, he couldn't almost believe. His wife was dead and the woman standing beside him was a stranger. He had to remember that.

He had to remember that, or he would go insane.

-----

Selene kept her eyes on Alex as he walked up the staircase, her own pack lighter than his. Her ribs and leg were still sore, so he had offered to carry the majority of the weight. They had ransacked the Bunker, taking med-kits, tricorders and phasers, shoving them all into packs and heading up the staircase. Ironically, the six hundred year old phaser she had taken was more advanced than the phaser she had lost on the surface.

Maybe she was the only one who could see the irony in that fact.

Alex confused her, she admitted it readily. He seemed to alternate between being comfortable and uncomfortable with her. One second, she found it easy to talk with him, and the next, he stormed ahead, as though she had offended him.

She hadn't believed him, at first. A Starfleet officer from another reality? Right, and she had a bridge on Romulus she wanted to sell him. He had sighed and picked up the disc he had thrown against the wall. "You see this?" he had asked, "Personal Transport Unit. Good for two transports. How do you think we got down here?" Without warning, the consoles around her had come to life, humming and beeping. He had reached back and rubbed the back of his neck, "Nanites implanted in my brainstem. Able to interface with any computer in ten meters." His face had appeared on the viewscreen, turning to look at her. "Believe me now?"

Yes.

A real Starfleet officer, from a reality where the Federation hadn't fallen. Maybe knights in shining Armour existed after all.

Even if they were slightly used.

-----

Jason stumbled as Herma'Taklan pushed him forward, the hot wind of this place striking him across the face as he stepped out of the installation. Apparently, the Jem'Hadar's Lord, a member of a race called the Khanate, was arriving and they were going outside to meet him.

The complex sat at the foot of what had once been a giant metallic pyramid, which continued to crackle and burn, though not at the intensity it had a few days earlier when he had arrived in this Universe. Clouds still hung low over the city, casting a gray pall over everything. Jason looked around at the crumbling buildings that surrounded him. "Nice, Hermy. Who's your decorator? I just _have_ to have him do my place." A fist struck him in the small of the back and Jason dropped to his knees, wincing with the pain. Obviously, Herma'Taklan didn't want to share his decorating secrets.

Either that, or Herma'Taklan was kneeling as well. Jason frowned, wondering what was going on, when the wind began to pick up. He looked upwards and watched in shock as the clouds parted and an enormous ship settled above the city.

It was larger than anything he had ever seen, easily four or five kilometers in length, and jet black. It's winged form reminded him of a dragon, wings outstretched as it roared. Intricate detail covered it from outstretched maw to the tip of it's tail, giving the impression of scales. Sensor systems swept back from it's forward hull like horns, and it's engines and weapons glowed underneath, the ship's feet and talons. The ship seemed designed to instill terror, and it worked. Jason felt himself shaking beneath it's shadow.

Without a sound, it hovered there above the burning wreckage, claiming dominance over the ruined city. As he stared at it, Jason felt the tingle of a transporter.

And he and Herma'Taklan vanished.

-----

They had been climbing for almost an hour when the pile of rubble appeared in front of them, blocking the staircase. With a groan, Alex pulled the pack off and stared at the obstruction, irritated. Selene stepped up next to him and shrugged. "Told you there was a chance. Any idea how far we are from the top?"

Alex's nanites reached out, scanning past the debris. "Ninety-seven point three meters. This wall's only a meter and a half thick."

She looked at him in surprise. "How can you possibly know that?" He tapped the back of his neck. "Is there anything that those nanites can't do?"

"Yeah. They're lousy cooks."

She laughed. "Well, nice to know they're not perfect." She pulled one of the phasers they had brought from the bunker and trained it on the rubble. Alex blinked and grabbed it from her hand. "What do you think you're doing?"

Selene gestured at the wall. "Meter and a half thick. That should cut through it in no time."

"Yeah, and cave half the ceiling in on us. Besides, power cell's almost dead, and we'll probably need it more on the surface."

Selene rested her hands on her hips. "You got a better idea?"

"We dig out. Should only take an hour or so, and unless you've got a pressing engagement up there, we've got nothing but time." He set the flashlight down and began to dig at the debris. Selene shrugged again and began to dig at it herself.

"Fine."

-----

The vast room Jason rematerialized in was dimly lit, torches flickering in wall sconces providing little illumination. Arches rose all around him, giving him the uncomfortable feeling of being trapped in the belly of some beast. Herma'Taklan still knelt behind him, head bowed beneath streams of white hair.

Hesitantly, Jason stood, taking in his surroundings. The room was empty aside from himself and the Jem'Hadar commander, a single set of doors reaching two stories high set into the wall at the far end of the room.

Suddenly, the floor vanished, revealing a thousand foot drop to the surface of the city below. With a gasp, Jason fell backwards in shock, landing on outstretched hands. Beneath him, he could see the fires burning, the rubble strewn streets stretching in every direction. Cautiously, he tapped at the floor. This technology was advanced. Very advanced. Possibly better than the holographic technology he knew.

With the grinding of hydraulics, the doors began to slide open. Jason stood and turned towards the sound, watching the shadowy figures on the other side begin to enter the room.

-----

Alex wiped dirt from his sweat-soaked face as he carefully removed another chunk from the rubble blocking their way. So far, they had been at this for forty-five minutes, digging in silence.

Silence was worse than talking.

In the silence, he had time to think. For three days, he had fiddled with the transporter while she had been unconscious, desperate to keep himself occupied. He didn't want to think, not yet anyway. "So…"

Selene looked up, her face filthy. "Talking now?"

"I suppose." He watched her shrug and turn back to the rubble. "Tell me about these Khanate you mentioned. You said they were responsible for the Federation's fall?"

She laughed humourlessly. "You really must be from another reality if you haven't heard of them."

"Guilty as charged." A particularly large piece of rock was lodged in, and he grunted as he yanked on it, feeling it begin to give. "In my reality, there isn't a race named the Khanate. Where'd they come from? Why do they exist here, but not in my Universe?"

She tossed a slab of duracrete the size of her forearm down the shaft, slumping down onto a stair and pulling out a canteen of water as it plummeted. "Oh, they probably existed, just never came to power." She took a swig and handed the canteen to Alex, who sat down on the stair beside her and took a gulp of his own.

"It's a long story, Alex."

-----

Jem'Hadar piled into the room, their leather clad bodies surrounding Jason and the still kneeling Herma'Taklan. Each carried a long, bladed pike on their right, and an energy weapon in their left hands. Easily two dozen of the strange Jem'Hadar entered, snapping to attention on either side of the doors.

An honour guard.

A moment passed, and then a tall figure entered the room, robes swirling behind him, long, black hair pulled back into a ponytail, his tunic open, revealing a well-muscled chest.

Jason gaped. This wasn't possible.

-----

Selene took the canteen back and replaced the stopper, storing their water back in her satchel. She took a deep breath before she continued.

"Have you ever heard of a man named Arik Soong?"

-----

The figure stepped up to the aghast Jason, and bowed slightly at the waist before speaking, his voice rich and accented.

"Welcome aboard the _Gilgamesh_, Commander Madden. I am Rakiin, Lord of this sector."

The Khanate were Human.


	14. Written by the Victors, Ch 1

**Written by the Victors, Chapter One  
**

"_There's no place for us on Earth. Or anywhere else."_

_-_Malik, _"The Augments"_

---

The cell Jason found himself in was lush, brightly lit with tapestries hanging from the walls. A large bed dominated one end of the room, covered in silken sheets. Food was laid out across an oak table, freshly prepared meats with several varieties of wine waiting to be poured.

Still, a gilded cage is a cage nonetheless.

After Rakiin had introduced himself, he had ordered two of his Jem'Hadar guards to escort Jason to this room while he spoke with Herma'Taklan. The room in which Jason and the Jem'Hadar commander had appeared was Rakiin's observation lounge, set deep in the belly of the _Gilgamesh_.

Jason sat in one of the overstuffed ottomans, wearily rubbing his hand over his face and through his hair as he considered what little he had managed to learn. The Khanate were Humans.

Yep. That just about covered it.

The door to the room began to swing open, and Jason stood to find himself face to face with one of the most exotically beautiful women he had ever met.

She stood beside Rakiin, dressed in what appeared to be a silver and gold Sari, dark hair bound in an elaborate braid behind her. Dark eyes stared at him from inside a tanned face, so dark they looked to be almost bottomless. When she stepped forward and approached him, it was with a dancer's grace that she curtsied.

Jason was taken aback for a moment, unsure of what to do. Thinking back, he allowed the training he had received back in the Academy to take over. Treating the situation like a First Contact, he bowed in return.

Rakiin smiled, and entered the room, standing behind the woman. "Commander. This is my sister, Aishwarya."

"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am."

Aishwarya smiled and stepped back. "And I you, Commander. I must admit to being fascinated by meeting someone from a parallel dimension." Jason allowed a small frown to flicker across his face. Of course they would know. Herma'Taklan would have told them.

"Have my men made you comfortable, Commander Madden?" Rakiin slowly surveyed the room. Jason watched, noting the other man's bearing. This was a man who was used to getting his way, he could tell just by the way he glanced at things, appraising them, making sure they were perfect. "Much more comfortable than I was on the surface, Lord Rakiin."

Rakiin laughed and sat down, arranging his cloak over the armrests. Waving, he invited Jason and Aishwarya to sit as well. "Yes, I do apologize for that. The Jem'Hadar have come a long way since their beginnings in the Gamma Quadrant, but they still have that propensity for violence."

"So they are Jem'Hadar, then?"

Rakiin nodded. "Of course. Genetically reengineered by my ancestors centuries ago during the Great War." Jason's eyebrow arched. Genetically reengineered? Pieces were beginning to fall into place deep in his mind. History classes he had not thought about in years were slowly coming back to him. A dark feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. He had a bad feeling about where this was going.

Aishwarya noted the expression on his face and nodded, reaching out and lifting a glass of wine. "I see you are beginning to piece together the puzzle of this dimension's reality, Commander."

"This is why I have brought Aishwarya here with me, Commander Madden." Rakiin appraised his sister with pride, "She is a quite accomplished historian. We believed that it would have been unfair to leave you 'in the dark', as it were."

Aishwarya crossed her legs and leaned forward, her eyes nearly glowing in her anticipation to tell the story. As she spoke, Jason found himself drawn to the narrative. This woman was a performer, an actress who knew her audience. "In the mid to late twentieth century, scientists began experiments in genetic engineering in the hopes of creating a race of perfect Humans. Humans which could survive in nearly any conditions, who would be free of disease, and whose intelligence far surpassed the best computing technology of the day. This project was called Chrysalis, and was headed by Indian scientist Sarina Kaur."

Jason nodded, "Project Chrysalis. The Eugenics Wars."

"Correct, Commander. I see the split in our respective histories must have come after this point." Aishwarya smiled and took a sip of her wine before replacing it on the table. "Doctor Kaur succeeded in her goal, creating a near-perfect race of children, both in body and mind. The children were brilliant, quickly surpassing the greatest minds the world had to offer.

"But greatness breeds jealousy. Chrysalis was attacked and destroyed, the children scattered to the four corners of the globe, Doctor Kaur dying as the Project's nuclear power generator exploded, taking all of her research with it. The forces which had attacked believed the children dead and left, leaving the smoking crater behind. The children were forced to grow to adulthood with the knowledge that they would never be accepted for who they were and must remain hidden.

"One of these children was Khan Noonien Singh, Remembered Be His Name."

Rakiin bowed his head, "Remembered Be His Name."

Aishwarya continued, "It took decades, but Khan grew to manhood, gathering the children of Chrysalis to him, petitioning the United Nations to allow him and his followers to help a world hanging on the verge of a Third World War. With work, the Children of Chrysalis could turn Earth into a paradise.

"But they were attacked, fear driving the ordinary Humans to violence. The Eugenics Wars began, devastating the planet. Attack. Counter-attack. The Children, or "Augments" as they had come to be known, fought valiantly but were eventually forced from the planet aboard an ancient sleeper ship, frozen in cryogenic suspension."

"The _Botany Bay_." Jason frowned, "I have to admit, though, this isn't quite the version of the Eugenics Wars I was taught in school."

Rakiin leaned forward, intense eyes staring into Jason's. "All stories have two sides, Commander."

Jason smiled and returned the stare. "And all history is written by the victors, Lord Rakiin."

The smile remained on Rakiin's face, though it left his eyes. Diplomacy and First Contact be damned. Sometimes, there was no substitute for old-fashioned sparring. Jason leaned back in his chair, "Of course, the same could apply to the history of my Universe." Turning his head, he nodded to Aishwarya. "I apologize for the interruption. Please, continue."

Aishwarya smiled at Jason, pleased as any sister would be to see her brother taken down a notch. "Though Khan was gone, thousands of genetically engineered fetuses were left behind, the future of Chrysalis. They were captured and placed into storage, the United Nations not knowing what to do with them. Eventually, the Third World War Khan had predicted did happen, toppling the United Nations. The fetuses were all but forgotten until almost a hundred years later in the twenty-second century..."

-----

"Have you ever heard of a man named Arik Soong?"

Alex frowned at Selene's question, taking a second to sift through the teraquads on information contained in the Starfleet database. It took a moment, but finally an entry appeared in the forefront of his mind.

_SOONG, Dr. Arik. Born: 2100. Died: 2174. Biogeneticist best known for the cure to Sherat's Syndrome. Former medical director – Cold Station 12 Research Facility. Convicted of breaking genetic engineering laws in 2143. Sentenced to life in prison. In the later part of his career, Soong began research into cybernetics. His work eventually led to the creation of the first positronic brain. Cross-Ref: NX-01, _ENTERPRISE_; Cold Station 12; DATA, Lt. Cmdr., Starfleet; SOONG, Noonien.  
_

Brushing his hand across his dirt-streaked face, he sighed. "Soong was a biogeneticist in the early twenty-second century. He was convicted of genetic engineering and sentenced to prison. What does he have to do with anything?"

Selene stretched her legs out in front of her and began messaging the left one, cringing as she did so. Obviously, it was still bothering her. Alex did everything he could not to notice. "If it hadn't been for Soong, the Khanate would never have existed in the first place. Before he was sentenced to prison, Soong worked at a research facility-"

"Cold Station 12."

Selene shrugged, "Never knew the name of the place. Lost to history, I guess. Anyway, the facility... Cold Station 12... held a few thousand frozen embryos left over from the Eugenics Wars. You know about those?"

Alex nodded. "Yeah, we had those where I come from. The split in our histories must have come afterwards." He stopped as he noticed a detail. "I thought you said that the war with the Khanate was six hundred years ago. Soong died in the twenty-second century."

She nodded, "Everything started with Soong. When he was director of the facility, he stole nineteen of the embryos and incubated them, raised them in hiding as his own children. Ten years later, he was arrested."

"The arrest for breaking genetic engineering laws."

"That's right. It took another decade, decade and a half, but eventually he escaped and returned to the Augments. The starship _Enterprise_, under Jon Archer, was sent after him when he stole the remaining embryos locked away at Cold Station 12. We don't know the details of what happened, but eventually Soong realized that the Augments were too dangerous and turned on them, leading to a fight between the _Enterprise_ and a Klingon Bird-of-Prey the Augments had stolen..."

-----

**The Ki'Vott Colony, May 26, 2154:  
_Nine Hundred Ninety Eight Years Ago:_**

_Arik Soong watched the Klingon ship writhe on the viewscreen as Archer's weapons officer struck out with the _Enterprise_'s phase cannons first once, then twice. The ship spun wildly off course as her main plasma junction overloaded, trailing debris as its engines went dead. He could feel tears burning in his eyes as he struggled with the knowledge that his children were dying on that small ship, along with the eighteen hundred unborn embryos. Dying because he had pointed out the perfect place to strike._

_The Vulcan science officer, (_T'Pol_, his numb mind reminded him), bent over her console, reading the scans of the drifting vessel. "They're disabled."_

_Hope sprung in his mind at her words, "Are they still alive?" _Please. Please God, don't let them be gone. Please...  
_  
She looked at Archer with her response, ignoring him completely. "I'm reading twelve biosigns."_

Twelve.

_Persis. Lokesh. Saul. Malik. His children. There had been seventeen on that ship when he had left them. Which were left? Which had he killed? He bowed his head, feeling the guilt crash over him._

_An alarm sounded, dragging Soong back to the world. An engineer looked up at Archer. "Captain? There's a power surge in their reactor."_

_Soong watched Archer, all heroic and dashing looks, turn to Reed, the gunner who had just help kill six of his children. "He's overloading his dilithium matrix. He'll destroy their ship."_

Malik_. Thoughts of his most rebellious son rose in his mind. Despite the rift that had grown between them, Soong still loved the young man. "Let me talk to him!" Archer seemed to consider for a moment, then nodded at the Asian woman at the communications board. Soong watched as she opened a channel to the dying ship, beginning to speak almost before she managed to open it. "Malik. Malik, it's Father. Don't do this. Some of your brothers and sisters are still alive."_

_Malik's voice sounded over the bridge speakers, weak and faint, but still holding the edge of pride the young Augment was known for.  
_

_-----_

_  
On the Bird of Prey's bridge, Malik struggled to stand upright against the engineering console, his features shadowed and backlit by the fires that burned out of control behind him. Acrid smoke filled the air, burning even his superior lungs. He snarled as he heard Soong's voice, hatred bubbling up from deep within him. Their "Father" had betrayed them all. Killed them. He was no better than any of the other base humans. No better. "Would you rather they went to prison with you?" He smiled painfully as Soong paused. Words he had read long ago came to him. A hit, a hit, a most palpable hit!_

"The embryos..."  
_  
Ah. The embryos. He was most proud of this part. Deep within the Bird of Prey, one of his sisters, Alia, was loading the unborn children onto an escape pod. With this wreck of a Klingon ship destroyed in front of them, the Humans would not think to look for the embryos. They would survive, even if he didn't. Malik knew that he was merely a player on the stage, and he would play this final role with relish. "There's no place for us on Earth. Or anywhere else. Better to die here."_

"Please please please..."  
_  
Malik smiled at the pain he heard in Soong's voice. It must be torture, watching, safe aboard _Enterprise _as his children died. Torture well deserved. As he finished typing in the command codes, setting the ship's reactor to explode, Malik turned around and reached for the transporter control, preparing to transport over to the Starfleet vessel. He would make sure that Soong died first. And then... then he would take his time killing Archer, enjoying every whimper and scream the Human made. "I'll see you soon."_

"MALIK!"  
_  
Malik smiled as he felt the transporter take him. All of them save Alia would die, but she carried with her eighteen hundred Augment children. The Augment race would survive._

_And one day... One day, the Humans would be punished for this indignity._

_-----_

"We don't know how, but Malik died aboard _Enterprise_, heroically sacrificing his life for Alia and the embryos."

Jason found that he was leaning forward, fascinated by the story. He vaguely recalled reading something once about Archer's _Enterprise_ and the near outbreak of a second Eugenics War, but not much. From what he could remember, the story had been considered mostly fictional.

And yet...

"Alia narrowly escaped the destruction of the Bird of Prey, a large piece of debris striking her arm as she stumbled into the ship's only remaining escape pod, onto which she had loaded the eighteen hundred embryos. As the Bird of Prey collapsed, she lowered her heart rate, bringing herself close to death to escape detection by the _Enterprise's_ sensors..."

-----

_Soong watched helplessly as the Bird of Prey shook on the viewscreen, it's long neck collapsing as the drive section continued the move forward, ramming into what remained of the bridge. Electrical surges flared along it's length, trailing debris as it finally died. All of his surviving children had been aboard that ship, along with one thousand, eight hundred and fifty four unborn._

_The cold numbers mocked him, and he watched in shock as the life signs showing on T'Pol's console winked out one by one._

_Archer leaned forward and shut down the console, sparing Soong the sight of all the death. It didn't matter. Soong could still see it all in his mind's eye. Each and every one of his children, all gone. Dead in the void of space. "I'm sorry, Doctor."_

_Soong slowly raised his head, unshed tears in his eyes. Never before had he felt as though he belonged in prison. He had always believed in his heart that he was innocent, that he had been placed in that cell unfairly. Now, for the first time, he knew he deserved it. He had murdered his own children._

_He wanted to be locked away and never seen again._

_An armed MACO stepped forward to take Soong by the arm and escort him from the bridge, but Archer waved him off. Laying his hand on Soong's shoulder, Archer leaned forward. "Doctor?"_

_The manacles on Soong's wrists beeped as they sealed, magnetically binding his arms together. Archer looked at the manacles in surprise, not having ordered them locked. Soong lacked even the strength to smile at the captain's consternation. He had figured out how to unlock them months ago. Locking them himself was child's play._

_"Child's play..."_

_Silently, Archer and the MACO led a broken Arik Soong from the bridge, the pitying eyes of the crew on his back.  
_

-----

_Malcolm Reed watched the Captain leave with Soong, and returned his attention to the sensors. The destruction of the Bird of Prey had saturated the area around the Khi'Vott colony with warp plasma, making scans difficult. _

_His console chirped and he leaned forward just in time to watch a life sign fade away into nothingness within the wreckage. Sadly, he closed his eyes. The last Augment was dead._

_As were the unborn embryos._

-----

_Alia woke when gravity returned._

_A quick glance at the chronometer revealed that she had lain comatose for five standard days, drifting in zero gravity. Stretching, she rotated her shoulder, finding no pain where the metal strut had struck her during her escape. She was completely healed, even the burns she had received as the Bird of Prey had died had faded away. _

_With the sound of cracking ice, the hatch to the escape pod opened, shining red light into the tiny space Alia found herself in. With a feral snarl, she launched herself at the figure on the other side, tackling the large Klingon and snapping his neck, killing him instantly. Spinning around, a high kick caught the other Klingon in the jaw, sending him barreling into the wall. Almost faster than the dazed Klingon could see, she had snatched the disruptor from his belt and trained it on him._

_He died quickly._

_A quick search showed her that she was on a small cargo ship, and that the two Klingons she had killed were the only ones on board. Debris from the Bird of Prey covered the cargo bay, most coated in a thin layer of frost. They had undoubtedly recovered the escape pod as wreckage, not expecting her to be inside._

_Their mistake._

_With grim determination, she sat in the pilot's seat and set a new course, ignoring the calls from a Klingon doctor on the surface of the planet demanding to know where she was going. With a satisfied smile, she left Ki'Vott, as well as her dead brothers and sisters, behind her as the small ship leapt into warp. Ahead of her lay _Klach'dekeHl'Brakh_, or as her father had named it, the Briar Patch. Once there, she would gather the necessary technology Father had secreted away and leave again, searching for a new home._

_A home where she could raise the embryos that still slumbered in the escape pod._

-----

Selene stood, brushing dust off her legs as she did so, and leaned against the wall. The story of the War and how it had begun were well-known to every child in the Federation Remnant. Details may have been lost to history, but the story remained.

"That must be it."

She looked down and watched Alex stare into the darkness of the stairway, a frown on his face. "What?"

"The point where our histories divided." He stood and looked her in the eye. "According to the Starfleet database from my reality, none of the Augments survived. Archer's _Enterprise_ found the remains of the embryos. They had been destroyed in the explosion. If this Alia hadn't made it to the escape pod..."

"A lot of suffering would have been avoided." Selene leaned over the railing, staring back down towards the bunker. "We kept going. Forming the Federation, exploring the Galaxy, an _Enterprise_ always leading the way. Archer gave way to April and Pike, Kirk to Harriman, Garrett to Picard, all the way to Cross. The great Heroes, the great Captains of the Federation. All this time, we thought that the Augments were extinct, the greatest mistake humanity had ever made.

"We were wrong."

-----

**Author's Notes:  
**Okay, a lot of resources this time around, and a lot of acknowledgments to be made for the history presented in this chapter.

**Number One:** Thanks to the cast and crew of Star Trek: Enterprise, specifically the Eugenics Trilogy ("Borderland"; "Cold Station 12" and "The Augments", one of Enterprise's finest moments) aired in the early fourth season. The flashbacks to Arik Soong and Malik in this chapter are taken directly from the episode.  
**Number Two:** The history of the Eugenics Wars of the late twentieth century (specifically Project Chrysalis and Sarina Kaur) is referenced from Greg Cox's trilogy of novels: **The Eugenics Wars – The Rise and Fall of Khan Noonien Singh**, and **To Reign in Hell – The Exile of Khan Noonien Singh**. Granted the story presented here is slightly different to the one presented by Mr. Cox, but I did this intentionally to show how history can change over time.  
I referenced the above sources in this chapter because they are both highly important moments in the history of "Dark Age", and I wanted to make sure that anyone who had not read Mr. Cox's novels or seen the Eugenics Trilogy would be able to follow.  
I know that this chapter, and the rest of "Written by the Victors", is and will be historical exposition, but I'll try to make it as painless as possible. (also, a small in-joke: Alia is the name of Paul Muad'dib's sister in Frank Herbert's **Dune** series. In the Sci-Fi channel film **"Children of Dune"**, Paul Muad'dib is played by Alec Newman, who also played... anyone? Anyone? Bueller? _Malik_. Like I said, a small in-joke.)


	15. Written by the Victors, Ch 2

**Written by the Victors, Chapter Two  
**

"_Ah, Kirk, my old friend, do you know the Klingon proverb that tells us revenge is a dish best served cold? It is very cold in space."_

_-_Khan Noonien Singh, _"Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan"_

---

"It took years, but Alia finally found a world on which to raise the children, a world outside the borders of any of the major governments. It was small and unspectacular, a world where they could be left in peace."

Aishwarya paused, taking another sip of her wine while Jason lifted his own. The history of this Universe was fascinating, in a dark and disturbing way. He had never done well in Temporal Theory class, but here, in this place, in this situation, he was finding that he could understand it perfectly. It was the change from theory to application. At the Academy, the cost of not understanding had been the difference between a passing and a failing grade.

Here, the cost of not understanding was much higher. It was the difference between life and death.

Rakiin straightened at a sound, rising and walking for the door. Herma'Taklan stood on the other side, kneeling before the Khanate. "My Lord."

"Is there a reason for this disturbance, Herma'Taklan?"

Herma'Taklan rose. He was taller than Rakiin, but even in his proud stance, he seemed smaller than the Augment. "There is news, Lord. You wished to be informed."

Rakiin smiled, and turned to face Jason and Aishwarya. "I am afraid that I must leave you now. Important business. I am sure you understand, Commander."

Jason pasted a fake smile on his face. News. What kind of news? Had they managed to find Alex and the other prisoner? "Of course, Lord Rakiin. Duty calls."

Rakiin gathered his cloak in the crook of one arm and bowed, taking a second to face Aishwarya. "Sister." Bowing again he left, the doors sliding shut behind him. Jason stared at the gilded doors, watching the bars to this cage seal around him. Aishwarya adjusted her skirts, brushing imagined dust from them. The difference between the two Augments astounded Jason. Rakiin, through all his smiles and diplomatic words, exuded as much violence as any of the Jem'Hadar who served him. Jason knew when he was being flattered. Everything here was to no doubt allow Rakiin to obtain the knowledge and technology Jason held from his own Universe. The room, the wine, everything. Jason was sure that even Aishwarya was a pawn on Rakiin's chessboard. Rakiin could have just as easily recounted the story to Jason himself. He probably thought that Jason would be more willing to talk to a beautiful woman.

Aishwarya, however, was a different matter. Either she was as genuine as she seemed, or she was an incredible actress. Jason remembered reading about the Augments who followed Khan on the _Botany Bay_, an equal amount of men and women. The history books said that even the women, astoundingly beautiful as they were, had the same violent aura as the men. Aishwarya lacked that edge. Her speech, her mannerisms, especially her eyes, all gave her the impression of being a woman who cared little for anything but her books.

Like he had said, either she was genuine, or she was an incredible actress.

Aishwarya uncrossed her legs and set the wine down on the table, rising to her feet. Jason set down his own wine and followed suit. With a smile, she opened the doors and spoke quietly to the Jem'Hadar who stood there. The Jem'Hadar nodded and bowed.

Aishwarya turned back to Jason and waved at the corridor. "If you don't mind, Commander, I was hoping that we might retire to the library. Not to imply that you have been anything but the perfect gentleman, but a lady should never be left alone in the company of a man in his bedchamber."

Jason laughed, a genuine laugh for the first time in what seemed like years, and followed her out of the room, the Jem'Hadar right behind them.

-----

The _Gilgamesh_ was as large on the inside as she had appeared from the outside. Each corridor was large enough to allow a dozen people to walk side by side, lit by what appeared to be torches at an interval of every dozen feet or so. Jason stopped and reached out for one, his hand phasing right through the flame.

Aishwarya stepped up next to him as the Jem'Hadar fingered his weapon. Running her hand through the fire, she looked at Jason. "Holograms. Each and every one of them."

"They're incredible." Jason glanced at her, "No offense, but, given the state of the city outside, I had assumed your technological base to be lower than the one in my Universe. These holograms are as good, if not better, than the ones I know. They're actually giving off heat."

"They keep the ship at a comfortable temperature. Don't ask me how they work. I'm afraid that I was never terribly good at engineering." She stepped back and gestured towards a door. "Commander?"

Jason left the torch behind and stepped through the door, stopping in awe as he found himself in an enormous library, computer terminals casting a light blue glow over the room. Shelving units three stories high stretched on, at least forty units on each side. Stepping up to one, he gently touched the leather bound books. "Real books?"

Aishwarya positively glowed as she stepped into the room, appraising the library. "My own collection. Historical volumes dating back to Ancient Greece on Earth. Classical literature from a dozen worlds." Gently touching a glass case, she looked up at him. "My prize possession. A first edition copy of John Milton's _Paradise Lost_, dated 1668."

_Paradise Lost..._ _Home._ The thought brought a wave of grief crashing over Jason. He and Alex were the only two left from home, and he didn't even know where Alex was.

"Commander?"

Jason shook himself out of it, "Sorry. Brain went on vacation for a second."

She shrugged, a pitying look on her face. "It's understandable. It's a wonder that you've been able to hold up as well as you have. The culture shock must be tremendous."

Smiling sadly, Jason shook his head. "Not so much. At least now I have an idea of where things changed." Running his hand over the books, he glanced at the Jem'Hadar who stood by the door. His weapon was held in a relaxed grip, but Jason had sparred with Jem'Hadar before. He knew how quickly that grip could change. "So. The last thing you told me was that Alia had found a world to raise the children on. What happened then?"

She led him to a large table at the back of the room, taking a seat in one of the high backed chairs. Open books covered the table, some printed, others in a flowing script Jason assumed was Aishwarya's own. "It was a second beginning for our people. We had the chance to live for who we were, away from the people that scorned us. Alia raised them all as her own, but she was consumed by grief and anger. She had watched her siblings die, and was the only one left. The hatred she carried for Humanity found itself passed down to the Children. Upon her death, the new Children of Chrysalis found themselves faced with a decision..."

-----

**Colony of New Chrysalis:**

_**Nine Hundred and Five Years Ago:**_

_Enkidu stood over Alia's coffin, staring at the carved likeness in the stone. He had been one of the first of the New Children to be born and, as such, he was now eighty-nine years old. His body was still in peak physical condition, but his black hair had long ago turned white, and wrinkles had begun to form around his eyes, which were still as sharp as ever. Three days had passed since Alia had passed away, and the entire colony, though still in mourning, was beginning to unravel without her leadership. Some turned to Enkidu as one of the eldest for guidance, but the colony was polarizing into disparate camps._

_"Enkidu?"_

_Enkidu turned and saw Moiraine, his wife and the mother of his six children, step into the tomb, still as beautiful as she had been the day Alia had married them seventy-one years ago. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she looked down at Alia's coffin. "I thought I might find you here."_

_"How are things above?"_

_Moiraine frowned and began to pace the length of the tomb. "Cuchulin is rallying support among the younger ones. The Third Generation are screaming for war."_

_Enkidu nodded. Alia had incubated the embryos in three groups, the last of which had only been twenty years ago. His eldest son, Morgan, was now older than some of Enkidu's own brothers and sisters. Cuchulin was one of the First Generation, but he knew how to play to the desires of the younger Augments. "I thought as much. Cuchulin is quickly becoming a problem."_

_"That Son of a Targ was always a problem, Enkidu. You just never saw it until now." Moiraine turned to face him. "The Third Generation is going to need an example, Enkidu. A show of force. With Alia gone, _you _are to be leader. No doubt can be left in the minds of any of us."_

_"Us?"_

_"I love you, Enkidu. I always have. But you must prove yourself to be the strongest, or none will respect you."_

_Enkidu turned and looked down at the coffin one last time. Without looking at his wife, he came to a decision._

_"Bring Cuchulin to the central square."_

_-----_

_The buildings of the colony surrounded the central square, pre-fabricated walls rising on every side. The moons shone high in the night sky, casting their pale light over Enkidu as he watched Cuchulin step into the square. All around them, the inhabitants of New Chrysalis stood silently by as the brothers faced each other. _

_Enkidu was mere days older than Cuchulin, but the other man appeared years younger, his long hair still blond and his face smooth. Cuchulin had always used this to his advantage, relating to the younger Generations as though he were one of them and not one of the First. "Cuchulin."_

_The blond Augment smiled at his older brother. "Brother. Is this a challenge?"_

_"You brought this upon yourself, Brother. Alia chose me to lead in her stead, and yet you insist on challenging my decisions constantly. This cannot go on."_

_"Can't brothers disagree?"_

_"Not in this case, Cuchulin. Never in this case. Draw your knife." Enkidu pulled his own blade from his belt and held it in a backwards grip as he watched Cuchulin do the same. Slowly, they began to circle each other, fainting, gauging the other's reflexes and strengths. A quick flick of the wrist and Enkidu found himself bleeding, Cuchulin's blade having slit the skin of his forearm. _

_First blood._

_Without warning, Cuchulin pounced, tackling Enkidu and driving him into the dirt. Metal flashed and Enkidu kneed his brother in the stomach, Cuchulin's knife driving into his shoulder. He barely noticed the wound as he flipped over and pinned Cuchulin to the ground, blade hovering over his brother's face. Cuchulin smiled, "Incredibly predictable, Brother. Do you really believe that I would have walked into this challenge without insurance?"_

_A cry from the audience grabbed Enkidu's attention, and he turned to see two of the Third Generation augments push a young child into the square, their knives drawn and at the child's throat. None of the spectators moved. Enkidu felt the fury grow within him, burning away reason. _

_They had his Great-Grandson._

_Enkidu stood and backed away from the laughing Cuchulin, growling deep in his chest. He could not, he _would_ not, endanger Duncan. The children were the hope of the Augments. Cuchulin laughed as he picked up a knife and brandished it at Enkidu. "You're weak, Brother. Far too weak to lead." He turned and addressed their audience. "Too weak to lead us in War! Could this man crush the Federation and build the Empire the great Khan Noonien Singh envisioned! He cannot even kill a single old man!"_

_"And would you follow the words of a coward who hides behind a child?" Enkidu stepped forward and looked at the others. "Would you follow him to your deaths? Because that is where he will lead you if we declare war now! We are only a few thousand strong. We cannot make war upon an entire galaxy! The great Khan attempted to take the Earth alone with a few thousand men and women and failed! How can we prevail?"_

_A shout rose from the crowd. "The Spartans triumphed at Thermopylae!" Murmurs of consent rippled across the square._

_"And they ALL DIED!" Enkidu shouted to be heard over the growing noise. "You cannot build an Empire if you are dead! Would you rule over a Kingdom of bones? Of dust? Would you rule over the Kingdom of Ozymandias?"_

_There was a grunt as the two Third Generations holding Duncan hostage collapsed and fell dead to the ground. Duncan stood alone, the two knives in his hands glinting blood-red in the moonlight. A solemn look on his eight-year-old face, he nodded to his Great-Grandfather and began to clean the blades on his sleeves. Enkidu turned and stared at Cuchulin, lifting his knife. Cuchulin charged, swinging wildly. Enkidu dodged the attack and drove the knife straight into his brother's heart._

_Enkidu held Cuchulin's body as it slipped to the ground, death swiftly approaching. His voice quiet, he whispered in his brother's ear. "'Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away.' This, Brother, is where you would have led us."_

_Cuchulin's eyes darted about madly at the words, fixing on Enkidu. He opened his mouth to speak, blood frothing at the corners of his lips, but nothing came out except a sigh as he died._

_Releasing his brother's body, Enkidu stood, Moiraine walking to his side, supporting her husband as he swayed. Shrugging her off, Enkidu surveyed the crowd. His people._

_"We will have our revenge. That I swear. The Federation _will_ tremble at our feet. But Khan was right to hide. We are not yet powerful or numerous enough to create his Empire. We will wait. We will bide our time."_

_"You would have us live like vermin!"_

_"I would have us prepare! We will go out into the Galaxy, mingle with the people of the Federation, infiltrate Starfleet! We will take what we need and use it against them! When they have forgotten us, then we will strike!_

_"And then, we shall create an Empire greater than any this Galaxy has ever seen!"_

_Surrounded by the cheering throng, Enkidu stood, his wife on one side and his Great-Grandson on the other. _

_Leader of the Khanate._

_-----_

"My people did as Enkidu said. We waited. We became very good at waiting." Aishwarya brushed her hand over one of the books, caressing it. "My mother told me that story time and time again when I was a little girl. It was, she claimed, the defining moment of our people's history. Enkidu became one of our greatest leaders, second only to Khan himself."

Jason listened patiently, blinking as he found himself forced from her story. All of his training was telling him to be careful, to pay attention to the Jem'Hadar at the door, but while she spoke, he found that he couldn't. He had been right in his first assessment of her. She was a performer, and she communicated her love of the stories to her audience.

"That story was why I became a historian, Commander. I needed to learn more. To understand the whys and the wherefores. An engineer becomes an engineer to learn how machines work. A doctor becomes a doctor to learn how the body works. I became a historian to learn how the Universe itself works."

It was strange. History vilified Khan and his followers, the children created by Project Chrysalis, reminding humanity over and over about how their superior strength and intelligence led to arrogance and war. "Superior ability breeds superior ambition." The saying went. But looking at Aishwarya, Jason began to wonder exactly how much beauty the Augments could have created if they had been given the chance.

Then he remembered Rakiin and the Jem'Hadar, and the violence that always seemed to lurk just beneath the surface.

Aishwarya rose and replaced the book on the shelf, running her finger over several volumes, ensuring that the book was in the right place. Satisfied, she returned and sat in her chair, facing Jason. "What is your world like, Commander? Don't worry. I don't want to know about the technology. I simply want to know what it's like. The differences in our histories, the people."

Jason took a deep breath. "Dead."

Aishwarya frowned and leaned forward. "I'm sorry?"

"It's dead. Everything and everyone. I don't know how, I don't know why, but everything collapsed. The stars went nova. I came here through an accident as everything died behind me."

"_'Things fall apart, the center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world; The blood dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned_.'" Aishwarya's voice was soft as she spoke the words, her eyes far away. Jason looked up at the sound. "_The Second Coming_, Commander. Yeats."

A long moment passed, a moment broken as Aishwarya spoke. "So you and your companion are the last survivors?" Jason looked up sharply, and she held her hands up in surrender. "Yes. I know of your companion. Herma'Taklan told us about what happened on the surface."

"I don't know where he is."

Aishwarya shook her head, a small smile reappearing on her face. "And I would not ask. My brother may care about power and technology, Commander. I, on the other hand, do not. I sincerely hope that your friend is safe."

Jason stared at the wall, imagining the ruined city beyond. "So do I."

-----

Alex cleared the last bit of rubble from the stairs, tossing it over the railing and watching it fall. Above him, he could see the hatch that led to the surface. Selene looked up at it, her face streaked with dirt. "Shall we?"

Alex smiled and waved her on. "After you."

With a mock curtsey, she started climbing the staircase, her flashlight lighting the way. As they got closer to the surface, the stone walls of the tunnel turned to duracrete and alloy. "I've got a question for you, Alex."

"Go ahead."

"Do you have a way to get off this planet?"

He paused. "Nope. I was kind of hoping that you'd be able to handle that particular one."

"Hmm. That may be a problem, then."

"Well, I'd figured that you had a ship."

"Yeah, and that ship's probably three hundred light years away by now."

"Stupid place for it to be."

"I know. Crazy, isn't it?"

"Insane. What's it doing there?"

"Running away."

"Okay. I'll bite. Why?"

"Because we blew up the Communications Array here on Earth and the Khanate are probably a little bit angry about that."

Alex stopped dead in his tracks. "You _blew up_ a communications array? That was what was smoking and on fire up there? _You_ did that?"

Selene turned and looked down on him, a confused expression on her face. "We're at war. We took out their communications in this sector by blowing that thing up. They'll be in the dark for months." She dropped her backpack on the stairs and stared at him. "Why? Do you have a problem with that?"

"What about the innocent people that could have been hurt?" How could she do something like that? Selene would never have endangered innocents.

She scowled. "There were no innocent people. That was a military outpost." She stopped and tilted her head angrily to one side. "What the Hell kind of person do you think I am? I don't kill civilians. I don't like to be at war. I just want to protect my people. With that array down, we can get hundreds of refugees out of Alpha Centauri and the Khanate won't be able to stop us." She stabbed an index finger into Alex's chest. "I don't fight for fighting's sake, but sometimes you have no choice if you want to protect the ones you love."

Feeling ashamed of himself, Alex looked down. He had responded as though she was the Selene he had known, forgetting completely that entirely different circumstances had forged the woman this Selene had grown to be. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"Damn right you shouldn't have." Sighing, she dropped her hand to her side. "And I shouldn't have gotten so defensive. I grew up with this war. I guess I forgot that you didn't. Sorry." She was silent for a moment before she took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "Okay. Now that that's done and over with, shall we continue?"

Alex looked up and shrugged. "Yeah. Let's go."

The hatch at the top of the staircase stood in front of them, a dead control panel on the wall beside it. Alex reached out with his nanites, searching for a way to access the computer, but with no luck. Shaking his head, he shrugged. "No good. Looks like the panel was damaged in the bombardment. I can't access it."

Selene crossed her arms and stared at the door, considering the options. "Okay." With a fluid movement, she pulled a phaser from her jacket and shot the door, sending it flying out of the wall. Around them, the cavern began to shake, debris raining from the ceiling. Grabbing Alex by the arm, she barreled through the hole as the passageway collapsed behind them.

Coughing in the dust, Alex got to his feet. "What was that? I warned you it might collapse!"

Brushing herself off, Selene sighed. "Well, we're alive. Doesn't really matter now. Besides, I've been in much worse situations than that."

Shaking his head in exasperation, Alex looked around at their surroundings. A large bowl-like room, desks and podiums rising at all sides. Selene slung her backpack over her shoulder. "Where are we?"

"The Admiralty." Large sections of the roof were missing, some having fallen into the seats. Dim light filtered through the holes. "The seat of power for all of Starfleet."

"And this is all that's left. A bunch of dusty, empty seats."

Alex stopped, considering an idea that had just formed in his mind. "Maybe not." Turning, he walked from the room, leaving a bewildered Selene behind him. "Where are you going?"

"I want to check something out." Biting his lip, he shifted the pack over his shoulders. "With any luck, it'll still be active."

"What will still be active?"

With a smile, he faced her. "The Starfleet mainframe. You coming?"

Stepping into the hallway, he heard her sigh and chase after him.

-----

_"I don't know where he is."_

_"And I would not ask. My brother may care about power and technology, Commander. I, on the other hand, do not. I sincerely hope that your friend is safe."_

_"So do I."_

With a frown, Rakiin switched the recording off, the images of his sister and the Starfleeter fading away, leaving the darkened observation deck behind. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, he stared at the space the hologram had occupied, never looking at the two figures behind him. "And you are certain that she knows nothing of this recorder?"

Herma'Taklan's rich voice filled the room, "No, my Lord. Her Ladyship is completely unaware. There is no holographic device to be detected. The image is recorded by internal sensors."

The Khanate nodded, satisfied with the Jem'Hadar's answer. "Shade?"

The second figure approached, bowing as he reached Rakiin's side. "Yes, my Lord?"

"The Starfleeter. What do you sense, Changeling?"

Shade steepled his fingertips, the unfinished features of his face twisting in concentration, his mind reaching out and brushing Madden's, reading through the man's thoughts. "He begins to trust the Lady Aishwarya, my Lord. More, perhaps, than he believes he should. However, he truly knows nothing of the other's location."

"And what he said about his reality being dead?"

"The truth, Lord. As he knows it."

"Would it be possible to... extract... technological information from his mind?"

Shade shook his head. "No, my Lord. That information was contained in the nanites implanted in his brainstem. Without them, he knows merely the basics of his world's technology. The other one, Alexander Carver, however, is an engineer."

Rakiin nodded. "Very well. Herma'Taklan. Redouble the search for the other Humans. Do not harm them, but bring them to me."

The Jem'Hadar snapped to attention and bowed, "Yes, my Lord. Victory is Life."

The Khanate waved a hand dismissively. "Victory is life. Leave." The Jem'Hadar commander left the room, leaving Rakiin alone with the changeling. Shade stood silently at the Khanate's side, waiting for orders. Finally, Rakiin spoke, hesitation in his voice. "And my sister, Shade? What of her?"

The shape-shifter shook his head, his eyes downcast. "I can see nothing, my Lord. Her Ladyship is quite adept at blocking telepathic scans. However, I do not believe that one must be telepathic to see the interest she has in the Starfleeter."

"No. One doesn't." Reactivating the hologram, he watched Madden and his sister speak, completely unaware that they were being watched. "Perhaps, the Starfleeter may be of use to me, after all. Kill two birds with one stone."

Bowing, the Changeling left the room, leaving Rakiin alone with the holograms of his sister and Jason Madden.

-----

**Author's note:  
**As a sidebar, Aishwarya's 1668 edition of _Paradise Lost_ actually exists and is currently up for sale. Anyone got $15,000.00 they can spare?


	16. Written by the Victors, Ch 3

**Written by the Victors, Chapter Three  
**

"_The victors invariably write the history to their own advantage."  
-_Jean-Luc Picard, _"Contagion"_

---

The computer core sank deep into the earth, fading away into darkness as Alex and Selene stood on the walkway encircling the top. Alex had only been in this room once before, as an engineering student at the Academy. Back then, the room had been bustling with technicians and officers, as well as other cadets. The room had been bathed in the blue glow emitted by the core, and he had barely been able to concentrate over the noise of all the other people around him.

Now, the room was dark and cold, the mainframe dead.

Selene looked up at the still intact ceiling, the first they had seen since entering the building. "Well, it doesn't look like it was hit directly. Could the power be dead?"

Alex shook his head as he sat down at one of the mainframe's consoles. The technology in front of him was centuries out of date as far as he was concerned. He felt as though he would have better luck accessing the computer with... what was it called? Oh yeah. The internet. "Shouldn't be. This computer was the heart of Starfleet. Even six hundred years ago, there were hundreds of redundant power systems. Even a full-scale bombardment shouldn't have cut the power. This thing should still be operational."

"Can't you just...?" Selene rubbed the back of her neck and pointed toward the mainframe. Alex sighed. "No. The nanites need an _operational_ computer to link to, otherwise it's nothing but black."

"Don't have to get testy. Sheesh. Like I would know."

The words hit him hard, making him flinch. There. He had just done it again. Selene noted the expression. "You okay? What'd I say?"

Alex shook his head. "Nothing. You didn't say anything." As he ducked under the console and checked the connections, he absently pulled the locket from his uniform and began threading the chain through his fingers. Holding one arm back towards her, he asked, "Could you hand me one of those tricorders?"

The hard plastic surface of the small scanner touched his hand and he brought it forward to look at it. Flat pad. Mid-twenty-fifth century design, which means that the hard line connections would be... here. Digging his nails into the thin joint, he pulled and snapped it off, exposing a microfilament wire. Pulling it out, he slid the wire into a small slot on the underside of the console and pressed the activate button on the tricorder. With a quiet beep, the console lit up and came to life. Pushing himself back to his feet, he turned and began cycling through the computer's files. Selene gaped. "How did you do that?"

Not even looking up, he answered, "I'm an engineer. It's my job."

Leaning over his shoulder, Selene stared at the flickering display. "So, what are we looking for?"

Alex could feel her hair brushing the side of his cheek, her breath on the back of his neck. Even her smell was the same. Without meaning to, he felt his shoulders relax and his eyes close.

His eyes snapped open and he practically jumped to his feet, startling her. "Right now, I'm not really looking for anything. The tricorder only had enough power for the console, not the mainframe. I'm just... running a diagnostic."

"Oh. You okay?"

"Yeah." The lie felt like bile in his throat, and he fought the urge to tell her the truth right then and there. Looking down, he saw the locket dangling from his fingers. His breath catching in his throat, he watched her reach for it. "What's that?"

"Nothing." Yanking it away, he tied the gold chain around his neck. "Belonged to someone I knew." Before Selene could ask, the console beeped again, signaling the end of the diagnostic. Looking at the display screen, Alex felt his nervousness melt away as he stared at the puzzle in front of him. "That's odd."

Selene very consciously kept her distance. "What?"

"The mainframe isn't damaged. It's inactive." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "It's been turned off."

"Can you turn it back on?"

Alex picked up his flashlight and made for the ladder leading down the side of the mainframe. "Yeah, but I'll have to do it from the main console at the bottom. It's where it would have been shut down from." Selene made to pick up her own flashlight, "So, back down we go."

"Yeah. Back down we go." Silently, Alex began his descent.

-----

_Idiot. _

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._

_It's not her. Don't think. Don't dream. Don't hope. She is a completely different woman. _

Not really. A little tougher, maybe, but she's just as funny and kind as Selene. She has the same smile, and what does that say about her? Growing up in this screwed-up Universe, and she can still smile and laugh and joke?

_Are you really that much of a glutton for punishment, Carver? You should just leave. Leave this woman behind and get as far away from her as possible._

I can't just leave her behind. I can't just let her die.

I can't face that again.

_Fine. Just remember. She's not the same woman. _

I will. I promise I will.

-----

Alex stepped off the ladder onto the floor, shining his light around and trying to find the main console. Debris littered the dusty floor, and he sneezed. The light jumped and landed right on the console.

And the skeletal figure slumped in front of it.

Alex screamed in surprise, dropping the light and sending it skittering across the floor. Selene dropped down into a crouch and picked it up, shining it on the skeleton. "Well. Guess we know who shut this thing down."

Casting an annoyed glance in her direction, Alex stepped up to the corpse and took a close look at the uniform. A black jumpsuit with grey shoulders and gold piping. Six gold pips lined the neck. An admiral's uniform from anywhere between the late twenty-fourth to early twenty-sixth centuries. "About the right time-frame for the war, and it would take an Admiral to shut down and lock out the mainframe."

"Lock out? If it's locked out, how are you going to access it? It's an _inoperative_ computer."

"Once I've got the console up and running, I'll be able to crack the encryption codes and activate the computer. It'll be _operational._" As he started to work at the console, apologizing to the unknown Admiral as he pushed the chair out of the way, he heard Selene muttering to herself.

"Smart ass."

Alex smiled to himself as he set to work.

-----

**Starfleet Command, San Francisco**  
_**Six Hundred and Eighteen Years ago:**_

_"Congratulations, Admiral." _

_Michael Augustus Raine smiled and accepted the preferred hand, shaking it firmly. His promotion from Captain was finally official, and though he would be sad to say goodbye to the crew of the_ Argos_, he could do more good here in the Admiralty._

_Especially for the Khanate._

_In the three centuries since the time of Enkidu, none of the Khanate had managed to infiltrate Starfleet to this level. Many had chosen to remain at lower ranks on explorer ships, learning about new races as they were discovered. More than seventy years ago, Raine's own great-grandfather had returned from the delta quadrant on the _Voyager_, bringing with him a complete dossier on the Borg, as well as the designs for their shields, weapons and engines, all of which were installed on the steadily growing Khanate fleet being built in orbit of New Chrysalis. A few years later, the designs for the prototype cloaking device on the Reman warbird _Scimitar_ were mysteriously stolen from the Tal Shiar. _

_And now, Raine found the entire Starfleet database at his fingertips. Classified information, prototype designs, all would be his. His name would be as revered as his great-grandfather's._

_On the surface, he laughed as he gathered the other man in a hug. "Bill, you better take care of the _Argos_, you got it? I'm trusting you."_

_William Hutten, the former first officer and now newly appointed Captain of the _Sovereign_ class cruiser, smiled. "What about the crew? Do I have to take care of them, too, Sir?"_

_Raine made a show of mulling it over. "If you have to. But if you bring that ship back with a single scratch on her, you'll have to explain it to me, not Command, you got it?"_

_Hutten made a look of mock horror. "I'd rather face the firing squad."_

_The two men laughed, and moved towards the door to Raine's office. "So. Where you going?"_

_Hutten stopped and shrugged. "Medical run to Romulus to help deal with the outbreak of Rigellian fever. Ever since those new _Avatar_ class ships came out, we _Sovereigns_ don't get the glory quite as much any more."_

_Raine nodded, "Yeah, I hear that even _Enterprise_ is being scheduled for mothballs."_

_"Shame. _Enterprise _is a beautiful lady with a lot of history."_

_"Yeah, and it's written in every scratch and dent. Now get going, I've got all sorts of Admiral-like things to do."_

_Hutten smiled and stepped out the door. "Lunch when I get back, Sir?"_

_"If you're buying. See you around, Captain."_

_"Admiral." The door slid closed, and Raine was alone. Sitting at his desk, he pulled a small device from inside his uniform and attached it to the computer. Locking the door, he turned towards the audio transceiver. "Computer. This is Admiral Michael A. Raine, security clearance One-One-Alpha."_

**VOICEPRINT RECOGNIZED. PREPARE FOR RETINAL SCAN.**

_Raine leaned forward and watched as the computer shone a quick light into his eye, an image of which appeared on the screen. _**RETINAL SCAN CONFIRMED. PLEASE ENTER PASS CODE.**_ "Pass code: Gilgamesh and Enkidu."_

**PASS CODE CONFIRMED. SECURITY CLEARANCE ACCEPTED. **

_Activating the device he had placed on the computer, he began typing at an incredible speed, watching as centuries of classified Starfleet files scrolled by. _The Kir'Shara incident. Well, now, isn't that interesting? Romulan first contact seven years prior to the wars. Now that _is_ interesting. Soong... _He stopped typing and his fists clenched. The birth of his people three hundred years ago and Starfleet _still_ wouldn't publically admit to it, classifying it deep within the database. _Not important right now, Raine, keep going._ More files flipped across the screen, the device recording everything, until Raine noticed a single name. _

**SINGH, KHAN NOONIEN.**

_His typing stopped and he frowned. Khan? Khan had been missing since the twentieth century, having escaped Earth on the _Botany Bay_. This was public knowledge. Why did Khan have a classified entry in the Starfleet database? Curious, Raine accessed the file. _

_James Kirk's log entries appeared before his eyes. Raine had never really liked Kirk, thinking that the man had been too full of himself. His "autobiography", _Risk is our Business_, had been little more than self-aggrandizement, a way to perpetuate his already legendary status. All around, Kirk had been an inferior being, from a race of flawed beings._

_But this..._

_The logs told of how Kirk's _Enterprise_ had found the _Botany Bay_, adrift in space, the Augment crew still frozen in stasis. Kirk had revived the Great Khan, and exiled him, his followers and a Starfleeter named Marla McGivers to Ceti-Alpha V after retaking the _Enterprise_. Khan had spent fifteen years on that planet, forgotten even after Ceti-Alpha V had been devastated in a natural disaster. _

_Then the logs told of Khan's death at Kirk's hands._

_Raine felt his world tilt as he read the logs, signed by James Kirk himself. Images of Khan accompanied the file, including pictures taken by the crew of the starship _Reliant_. The Great Khan Noonien Singh, the legendary hero of his people, was dead. Killed by a filthy, lesser, baseline Human._

_The desk cracked as Raine drove his fist into it. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his recorder off the computer and walked out of his office. His people had to know about this._

_This time, Starfleet had gone too far._

_-----_

Aishwarya sighed, "Raine returned to New Chrysalis with the files and presented them to the Ruling Council."

"They didn't take it well, I'd guess."

Aishwarya smiled sadly and shook her head. "Khan is a great hero to our people, the First King who led us through the Eugenics Wars and ensured our survival by any means necessary. It would be as though you discovered that King Arthur had returned and been murdered before he could make his presence known." Again running her hand over a book's binding, she looked away. "We went to war, launching our attack on the Borg first."

"The Borg? You went after the most powerful race in the galaxy first?"

"It made perfect strategic sense to our leaders. Eliminate the most powerful threat before any others. At the same time, the Borg had the largest industrial base. If we were to launch a war on a body as large of the Federation, we needed those resources..."

-----

**Sector 5478-98-A2, Borg Space**  
_**Six Hundred and Sixteen Years Ago:**_

_The Borg cube sailed through the inky blackness, it's grey hull dully reflecting the starlight as it emerged from the transwarp conduit. Inside the cube, all was quiet, drones silently going about their business with perfect efficiency. Every system ran within exact parameters, every mind was in agreement._

_Perfect. Precise. Harmonious._

_A section of the cube reported an unknown error .00002 seconds before an entire section of the cube was sheared away by an energy weapon of undetermined origin._

_With clockwork precision, the Collective assessed the damage and responded, bypassing systems and sealing off the affected areas. Deep within the multitude of voices that formed the Collective, the screams of the drones in that section died as they were cut off from the whole. .01 seconds after the explosion, the cube was once again operating perfectly, the damage contained. The cube had barely shaken.  
_

**INTRUDER ALERT.**

_The three humanoids materialized inside the cube, transporting directly through the shields. As it sent drones to assimilate them, the Collective analyzed the information available. _

**SPECIES 5618 - HUMAN. HOMEWORLD: EARTH, SECTOR 001. MOST EFFICIENT MEANS OF ASSIMILATION: JUGULAR VEIN.**

_Drone 012547 approached the first of the humans, assimilation tubules snaking out from its wrist and seeking the throat of the invader. The human reached out and grabbed the drone by the arm, snapping it in half. One handed, the human lifted the drone in the air and threw it across the corridor and into seven other drones._

**ERROR. STRENGTH ABNORMAL FOR SPECIES 5618.**

_The three invaders leapt forward, impossibly attacking the drones with bare fists and winning. Twenty-seven drones lost connectivity to the Collective within 3.15 minutes. _

**ERROR. SPEED ABNORMAL FOR SPECIES 5618.**

_4.65 minutes after the encounter began, drone 4567432 managed to inject one of the invaders with assimilation nanites. Calmly, the Collective reached out for their newest drone and found nothing. The nanites were destroyed by the invader's immune system before even a tenuous link to the collective was formed. Drone 4567432 went off-line. _

**ERROR. SPECIES DESIGNATION INCORRECT. CREATE NEW SPECIES DESIGNATION. SPECIES 11289. UNKNOWN ORIGIN. **

_5.18 minutes after they transported aboard, the three unknown assailants vanished, leaving a severely damaged Borg cube in their wake. For the first time since their war with Species 8472, the Collective was confused._

_The few remaining drones aboard the cube reported an unknown vessel decloaking 2.374 kilometers away from them. As the Collective watched, the vessel fired from it's forward weapons array, disintegrating the cube. _

-----

_Aboard the Khanate vessel _Helen of Troy_, Commandant Augustus Raine watched the remains of the Borg cube fade away into nothingness with a predatory smile. Around him, the crew went about their duties silently as the _Helen_ recloaked and proceeded deeper into Borg Space, the other two hundred and ninety-three vessels of the cloaked Khanate fleet behind her._

_The war had begun._

_-----_

"The Borg were defeated in three years, Raine conquering their homeworld with little resistance. What the Borg could not assimilate, they could not learn. They lost because we are completely immune to assimilation. A single flaw on their part. The inability to learn."

Jason frowned, "And Starfleet never investigated a war that was defeating the greatest threat we'd ever seen?"

Aishwarya shook her head, "The entirety of Borg Space was largely considered off-limits _because_ the Borg were their greatest threat. Any Federation vessel that discovered the war was destroyed and considered lost to the Borg."

_Makes sense, I suppose._ Jason's frown deepened. "What happened then?"

"Ironically, we assimilated the Borg industrial base and used it to rebuild and improve our ships. Then we turned to the Dominion, and made a bargain..."

-----

**Homeworld of the Founders**  
_**Six Hundred and Twelve Years ago:**_

_Raine smiled as he watched Odo shudder, incapable of reverting to his liquid form, trapped as a humanoid for the past twenty hours. Kneeling before the suffering Founder, he laid a hand on the Shape-Shift Inhibitor. "You've faced this device before, haven't you, Odo? Long ago, at the beginning of the Dominion War, wasn't it? Garak tortured you with it, didn't he?" The dying former security chief only moaned. "We stole the plans from the Obsidian order years ago, in the case that we ever faced your people." Looking up, Raine nodded at the smiling Founder that stood on the other side of the cell door. "And now your people have given up on you. You betrayed them during the Dominion War, and they have long memories, Odo. Very long. And if there is one thing I hate, it's a man who betrays his own people."_

_Rising he stepped from the room and nodded to the guard. "Leave him. It shouldn't be long." The Khanate guard saluted as Raine and the Founder left the _Helen's _detention area, Odo's moans echoing behind them._

_"You gave up one of your people, Changeling."_

_The Founder barked a laugh, "Odo has never been one of us. He betrayed us long ago and he is getting what he deserves. But on to the business at hand, Commandant, why should we ally ourselves with you? You're Human."_

_Raine growled, "We are Khanate. We are not Human."_

_"My mistake, then. But the question remains: Why should we ally ourselves with you? What can you offer us?"_

_Raine lifted a syringe from inside his uniform. "The next stage in your evolution."_

_As the Founder stared at the syringe, Odo's moans became a brief scream, and then silence reigned._

_-----_

"Got it!"

Alex and Selene looked up in awe as the mainframe shook itself back to life, a behemoth waking after a centuries long sleep. With a low thrumming noise, the computer came back on line, filling the room with a light blue glow. Selene looked at Alex with a smile. "So what now?"

Alex began typing commands into the console. "Well, let's see what the last file entered was. That should be a good place to start."

_"It's my fault..."_

The voice emerged from the audio speakers set into the console, as clear as when they recorded. Silently, Alex and Selene listened as the voice went on.

_"It's my fault..."_

_-----_

**Mainframe Control Room, Starfleet Command**  
_**Six Hundred and Nine Years ago:**_

_Admiral William Hutten screamed as he lost his grip on the ladder and hit the hard floor, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him. Painfully rising to his feet, he clamped a hand over the steadily bleeding wound in his side, feeling the blood seep through his fingers. He knew that he had been the lucky one, only catching the edge of the blast as the bombardment had collapsed the roof of the Admiralty._

_But he still knew he was dying._

_Above, he could hear the explosions as the Khanate fleet raked Earth with their weapons, his old Captain Michael Raine commanding the attack. Of course, the man preferred to go by Augustus now, but Toh-may-to, Toh-mah-to, as his mother used to say. _

_Dragging himself to the console, he entered his identification code as Raine's face appeared on the screen in front of him. _"Bill."

_Hutten scowled and spat at the screen. "Mike."_

"So this is how it ends between us? Last words spoken over a comm line? How many times have we faced each other, Bill?"

_"Andor. Boreth. Ferenginaar. A half dozen other worlds before here." Hutten frowned, "This is where it ends."_

"For you, old friend, maybe. Believe it or not, I'm proud of you, Bill. You have the heart of a warrior."

_"I don't care if you're proud of me, Mike. I don't care about traitors."_

_Raine frowned, and leaned back. _"Where is she?"

_"Where you won't find her until she's done. Then, you'll know what it's like to be me. She'll be a beautiful lady, Mike, with a lot of history behind her." _

_Raine scowled, "And it will be written in every scratch and dent, Bill." With a jab, Raine severed the line, his face vanishing from the screen. Quickly, wincing with every motion, Hutten turned the subspace array in orbit in a direct line for Sol. "_Grissom_, this is Hutten. Do you read?"_

_The voice was static-filled as it replied. _"Admiral, this is _Grissom. _What are our orders?"

_"Get her away from here. Far away. Earth has fallen. She's our last hope."_

"Yes, Sir. In the name of the Praetor, she will be safe."

_Hutten smiled as he slumped back into the chair, "Thank you, Subcommander. Tell the Praetor we held them back as long as we could. The Empire is alone now."_

"I will, Sir. It's been an honour."

_The channel died, and Hutten could hear the booted feet of the Jem'Hadar at the top of the ladder._

_-----_

_On the starship _Grissom,_ Subcommander Toval of the Romulan Empire wiped green blood out of his eyes, watching the Transwarp hub in orbit of the star grow closer. A disheveled human turned to him from the helm. "Orders, sir?"_

_"Open the hub. Set course for Romulus. Inform the Praetor..." Toval sighed, "Inform the Praetor the Federation has fallen."_

_Misery filled the bridge as the small fleet entered the transwarp hub, a half-complete spaceframe being towed between them, the name on her completed saucer reflecting captured sunlight and announcing herself to the Universe._

USS Enterprise_, NX-1701-F._

-----

The skeleton watched sightlessly as Alex and Selene listened to Hutten's final confession, recorded seconds before the mainframe went off-line.

_"It's my fault. I never saw it. All that time we served together, and I never saw it. How many times did I save his life? If I had let him die, how many lives could I have saved then? But we were more friends than Captain and First Officer. How much of that was a lie? How many times did he save my life thinking, 'Let him die'?_

_"I can hear him now. He's come for me himself, the bastard. He's come to gloat. I'm too weak to fight back, now. Blood loss. But I can make sure that he doesn't find out where I sent the _Enterprise_. I'm going to shut down the mainframe, that will at least delay him. _

_"If I'm going to die, I don't want to remember this war. I don't want to remember what Mike became. I'll die remembering that I owe him lunch when I get back from Romulus. I'll die remembering my friend, not my enemy._

_"I can hear him now, him and the Jem'Hadar. They're coming._

_"They're coming..."_

"Wrong."

Alex and Selene whipped around, phasers drawn, as they watched a dozen Jem'Hadar soldiers deshroud behind them, their elegant features bearing twisted smiles. Slowly, Alex and Selene dropped the phasers to the ground, raising their hands. The leader stepped forward and picked them up.

"We're already here."

-------

**Author's Notes:**

The history lesson's over. We now return you to our regularly scheduled program.


	17. To Fly on Waxen Wings, Ch 1

**To Fly on Waxen Wings, Chapter One:  
**

"_What the hell. Nobody said life was safe."  
-_Cmdr. William Riker, _"Peak Performance"_

---

_Icarus_ flew.

Kordath sat on the bridge, watching the starlines blur past as Tal guided the ship. Below them, the deckplates vibrated as the warp core hovered on the edge of overload, the Bajoran pilot struggling to squeeze every possible meter per second out of the old ship.

"About another twelve hours, Kordath."

The Klingon kept his gaze fixed on the stars outside, but his large hands clenched in leather gloves, forming twin fists.

There was blood on the horizon.

-----

Deep within _Icarus_, Nyssa T'Len sat in her sickbay, surrounded by her tools. Obsessively, she went over them again, making sure that she had what she would need to treat the Skipper when they found her.

Not if. When.

Tal's voice crackled over the speakers. "_Another eleven and a half hours, Nyssa._"

She stopped for a moment, staring in silence towards the speaker. Then she went over it again.

She would be ready.

-----

Maynon Tal sat in his pilot's seat, course corrections and warp mathematics running through his mind almost faster than he could recognize the thoughts. He was already pushing Icarus towards overload, the warp core running hot.

Not fast enough.

A quick glance at the chronometer verified what he already knew. Eleven hours and fifteen minutes.

Swallowing his pride, he sent a silent prayer in the general direction of the Prophets, the first prayer he had said since he had been a child. The Prophets answered with that annoying little voice in the back of his mind.

_You are so screwed.  
_

_Icarus_ flew, bringing her crew closer to Earth with every passing second.

-----

Selene cursed in Klingon.

It was long, complicated, profane and involved something about rabid Cardassian Voles eating the still-beating hearts of her enemies while they lived. Despite the energy weapons aimed at his chest, Alex looked at her in disbelief. Now, _that_ was something he'd never expected to hear come from Selene Weller's lips. Scowling, she looked back at him. "What?"

"Nothing."

A pair of gloved fists caught them both in the lower back, painfully driving them to their knees before the lead Jem'Hadar. Alex winced as he hit the floor, hearing Selene gasp as her bad leg struck the duracrete. The Jem'Hadar grabbed her by the chin, roughly pulling her face from side to side as he examined her. "My men must not have done a terribly good job with you, Human. You barely seem injured."

Selene cocked her head to the side, a look of mock surprise on her face. "Was that supposed to be a beating? I thought that they'd gotten into the massage business, because let me tell you, I have been _so_ stressed..." The Jem'Hadar struck her across the face, leaving an angry welt on her cheek. Shaking her head, Selene spat blood out onto the floor and glared up at the Jem'Hadar, murder in her eyes. The Jem'Hadar just shrugged. "Any more comments, Human? No? I thought not." He turned to Alex, kneeling down to eye level. "And you must be Lieutenant Carver."

Alex froze and Selene gaped. There was only one way that this Jem'Hadar could know his name.

Jason was alive.

The Jem'Hadar nodded. "I am Herma'Taklan. I understand that it was you who killed the leader of my hunting party., Lieutenant."

Alex nodded, "Yes, but-" The fist caught Alex in the abdomen, knocking him to the ground as the air rushed from his lungs in an explosive gasp. Selene made to stand, but one of the other Jem'Hadar held her down as Herma'Taklan stepped over to where a gasping Alex lay on his side and whispered in his ear. "I care nothing for your reasons, Human. You cost me a good Hunter, and that will cost you someday." Herma'Taklan savagely hit Alex again, and Alex found that he couldn't even scream. "You should consider yourself fortunate that today is not that day. My Lord Rakiin wants you both alive." Raising his gauntlet, he spoke into his communicator. "Herma'Taklan to _Gilgamesh_. Transport."

As Alex felt the transporter take hold, he caught Selene's gaze.

For the first time, he saw fear there.

-----

Jason sat in the middle of the room, staring at the doors.

After he and Aishwarya had finished speaking, he had been escorted back to his room and left alone. A quick touch confirmed what he had suspected. The door was shielded by a force field. He was locked in.

Gilded cages.

Restlessly, he got to his feet, pacing back and forth in the large room. Thirty paces to the table. Turn. Thirty paces to the bed. Turn. Repeat. He had done this for two hours now. Pace. Sit. Pace. Sit. Pace and kick at the force field. Sit and nurse a sore foot.

Turns out the worst thing about imprisonment was the boredom.

After two and a half hours, he walked up to the door and screamed at it. "Can I at least have someone to talk to!"

A hum filled the room and Alex materialized behind him.

The two friends stared at each other for a long, silent moment before Jason spoke. "Nice timing."

Alex gave a short bark of a laugh and collapsed unconscious at Jason's feet.

-----

_The sky was dark and featureless as Selene walked slowly towards the wreckage in the distance, no clouds, no moon, no stars, the ruin of the crashed ship sparking and burning. The stench of burning insulation filled her nostrils, choking her with it's putrid grasp. The heat flushed her face, the fires out of control._

_Her coat was ripped and torn, her face bleeding from a dozen cuts, and she could feel the burns on her hands and arms. Stopping in the middle of the debris, she turned and stared out around her. Nothing except darkness and fire all around._

_"You killed us, Skipper."_

_Selene spun and found herself face to face with Tal, gasping in shock as she saw the deep gashes that ran through his face and raked across his chest. His eyes, usually so lively and mischievous, were white and rheumy, the eyes of a dead man. "No. No, Tal, I told you to leave."_

_Nyssa appeared behind her, the Romulan medic's neck at a odd angle, broken in the crash. "But you knew we'd come back for you."_

_"I never asked you to!"_

_Kordath rose from the fire, his awesome figure bleeding from a million wounds, the flames slowly licking at his hair. "You inspired us, Selene, and by doing so, you killed us. You knew that we would return for you, and you led us straight to the _Gilgamesh_. You led us to our deaths."_

_Selene felt the tears begin to fall as she looked on the faces of her friends, their dead eyes accusing her. "I didn't mean to. I tried to protect you all, I told you to leave!"_

_"But we didn't."_

_She turned and saw Alex, the black and red Starfleet uniform ripped and torn, his face cut and bleeding, but his eyes alive, a sad smile on his face. Gently, he held her as she wept, surrounded by the ruins of the _Icarus.

_"And we won't."_

-----

Selene woke with a start, hands reaching out to steady herself on the hard metal floor. Just a dream. Just a dream.

"Good morning, Human."

Selene turned her head, looking through the entrance to her cell at the man standing there. He was easily a foot taller than she was, powerfully muscled with long black hair. White robes fell around him, contrasting the tanned skin.

Khanate.

Rising to her feet, Selene scowled. "What do you want, genie?" She almost laughed as the Khanate frowned at the name that Starfleet had come up with for anyone genetically engineered. The large man stepped up to the edge of the force field. "I'd be careful, little girl. It appears that I hold all the advantages here." He tapped the field, eliciting a blue spark. "You will address me as Lord."

"Uh huh. Right. That'll happen." Leaning against the far wall, she folded her arms across her chest. "Where's Carver?"

"Why? Is he important to you?"

Selene hesitated. With everything going on, why was Alex the first one she had wondered about? She should be concentrating on getting out of here before her crew returned and got shot down. Still, thoughts of the Lieutenant failed to leave her. "Just curious. Seemed like you wanted him more than me, that's all."

"He's being dealt with."

Her heart leapt into her throat. When a Khanate said that someone was being 'dealt with', that rarely meant anything good. Desperately trying to stay calm, she shrugged. "Whatever. You still haven't told me what you want. Isn't that how an interrogation is supposed to work?"

"Who said this was an interrogation?"

"If it wasn't, I'd be dead. You want something."

"Why did you destroy the Array, Human? It gets you nothing. It will be repaired within three months."

_Three months that you're in the dark_, she thought. "You know how it is. You get bored…"

The Khanate smiled, amused. "You were bored? So you decided to throw your life away?"

"I'm not dead yet."

"No, not yet. But you must have had some other reason. Some purpose."

_Like I'd tell you._ "Can't a girl just have some fun?"

"Of course. 'Fun' is what this is all about." The Khanate's smile grew wider, unnaturally wider. Selene's eyes grew as his features began to ripple and distort, his body shrinking and growing slimmer. A Changeling suddenly stood before her, his flattened, unfinished features smiling. "And this will be fun."

Selene screamed as the Changeling ripped into her mind.

-----

Aishwarya sighed as she sat in her library, the computer console glowing before her. Normally, she hated using the thing, preferring the feel of a book, but occasionally it was a necessary evil. File names scrolled across the screen at high speeds as the _Gilgamesh_ downloaded the Starfleet mainframe that Commander Madden's friend had been kind enough to activate.

With the thought of the Starfleeter… _Jason_, she mentally corrected herself… she sighed again, running her hands over her face. A twinge of pity overtook her. Cut off from everything he knew, alone in a strange world, how must he feel? Her teachers as a child had taught her not to trust baseline Humans, that they were vicious and uncivilized, but Commander Madden... he was none of those things. Was he an indication of what baseline Humans could become if they were allowed to grow in peace?

Dangerous thoughts. Deadly thoughts if one of her brother's pet telepaths managed to detect them. Despite his outward pride in her and her achievements, she knew that her brother had suspicions about her, suspicions that reached beyond her beliefs about the Humans. There was no such thing as unconventional love in Khanate society. Her people's minds constantly looked for double-crosses in the shadows, searching for the traps that always lurked about. The quote rose in her mind unbidden: _Knowing that there is a trap is the first step in evading it_. Frank Herbert's _Dune_.

Not all wisdom came from textbooks.

"Problems, Sister?"

She hadn't needed superior hearing to hear him enter the library, or stand behind her. Turning to face him, she smiled. "No. Why would there be a problem, Rakiin?"

Her brother shrugged and leaned over her shoulder at the computer screen. "Just curious. What are you doing, Little Sister?"

"Downloading the Starfleet mainframe. It's an invaluable piece of history, Brother. Stories of the war, told by the very people who fought in it."

"Fought for the losing side, you mean."

Rising to her feet, Aishwarya made her way to one of her bookshelves, turning to face Rakiin. "History is a collection of facts, Brother. Our side. Their side. Both are tainted by perspective. The truth, more likely than not, lies somewhere in between."

"The only facts that I need know, Aishwarya, is that we won."

"Did we?" Aishwarya shook her head. "Look at our society now, Rakiin. Fractured. Feudal. There's no organization. You may rule this sector today, Brother, but tomorrow may be a different matter. How many young Khanate are nipping at your heels, looking to bring you crashing down?"

"Is that a threat, Aishwarya?"

"Merely an observation. I care nothing for politics, Brother, you know that." She pulled a book off the shelf and flipped through the pages. "Our society collapsed with the Romulan Empire. We turned on each other like feral wolves, creating Augments in all other cultures to shore up our own forces, each of us seeking to carve a piece of the spoils for their own. We are no Grand Empire, Rakiin. We are a study in chaos."

"There is strength in chaos, in unpredictability."

"_'A strong blade is nothing without a steady hand.'_ Emperor Kahl, third Augment ruler of the Second Klingon Empire."

"Kahl was a Klingon fool who turned his back on our ways."

"Many Klingons believe he was a great ruler. Possibly the greatest since Martok. Certainly the best of all the Augment rulers."

"This is a dangerous line you're walking, Sister. Dangerously close to treason, I'd say."

"I'm merely stating facts, Rakiin. Historical and recorded by our own hands. How is that treason?"

Rakiin stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to drop the book. "Do you know how often I've protected you, Sister? How I've guarded your secret, how many people I've had killed for your little lies?"

Aishwarya tried to break free from her brother's grip, but found her arm locked in a diamond grip. "Starting with father, you mean? Or would you like me to start before that?"

Rakiin snarled and pushed her away, shoving her into the bookshelf as he turned from her. The two siblings stood not ten feet apart, the air between them thick. "Father was an old fool."

"Father understood what's coming. All empires fall, Rakiin, even the greatest. The T'Kon, the Icarians, the Aztecs, the Romans... All ashes in the wind. We need to evolve, Rakiin. We need to leave this petty hatred of the Humans behind and learn to grow, before it's too late."

Rakiin spun on a heel, "Remember that line, Sister. I may not be there to protect you forever."

"A life paid for in blood. How does it feel, Rakiin, to ascend to the throne with your family's blood on your hands?"

Rakiin made to leave, gathering his cloak around him. "I wouldn't be the first."

Aishwarya knelt as she picked up the book her brother had forced her to drop. "Remember what happened to Claudius, Brother. He was killed by his own nephew in revenge for the King's death."

Rakiin paused at the door to the library, his hand on the frame. "And Hamlet died in the process, didn't he, Sister? What, precisely, does that teach us?"

Aishwarya smiled as she watched her brother's back. "That vengeance for past wrongs will only lead us to our deaths."

Rakiin stood silent for a moment before he left the room. Smiling to herself, Aishwarya returned to her computer.

-----

Alex returned to consciousness slowly, feeling the pain in his stomach from where Herma'Taklan had kicked him. With a moan, he rolled over onto his side.

"Good, you're awake. How do you feel?"

Alex scowled up at Jason. "Like I've been living on the run and been beaten to a pulp while my best friend's been living it up. How the hell do you think I feel?"

Jason smiled and helped him to his feet. Vertical for the first time, Alex looked around.

Selene was missing.

"Where is she?" The pain forgotten, Alex began running around the lush room, tearing pillows off the ottoman and bed, as though Selene could be hidden beneath them. Jason watched in confusion. "Who?"

"Selene!"

Jason sighed, and Alex spun around at the sound. "Alex, I told you..."

"No! You don't understand..."

"Alex..."

"You didn't see her face?"

Jason stopped and frowned. "The other prisoner? No, I didn't. Why, who was..." He stopped as the realization played across his face. "Oh my God. It's Selene?"

Alex nodded, "This reality's version, anyway. They caught us in the ruins of the Admiralty. A bunch of Jem'Hadar."

Jason rolled his eyes, "Probably led by Hermy."

"Big one? Long hair? Got a taste for violence?"

"That's him." Jason sighed and sat down. "Odds are they've got Selene in another cell."

"Doesn't help."

"Have you told her?"

Alex froze, "Told her what?"

"About you and her... I mean, the Selene from our reality."

Alex slumped into one of the chairs and rubbed the bridge of his nose furiously. His voice took on a sharp edge, decidedly frustrated. "No. What am I supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm Alex. I'm your husband in another reality. So what's new?' The Temporal Prime Directive doesn't exactly have example scenarios for this kind of situation, Jace." Alex sighed and began to fiddle with the locket around his neck. "Besides, it's not her."

"Is she close?"

Alex laughed bitterly, "Yeah. Frighteningly."

Jason shook his head and pressed both palms to his temples, "Universe really seems intent on playing with our heads, doesn't it? As if we didn't have enough grief to deal with, now there's this?" They sat in silence for a long minutes, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. Finally, Alex stood and began to pace. "How did we get here, Jace? What happened?"

Jason ran his hands over his face, sighing in frustration. "What do you remember?"

"You finding me on the _Albion_, and then waking up at the Guardian of Forever."

"You were almost dead. The doctors on the _Crichton _were saying that your body was crushed, that you were lucky to be in a coma. I was going to take you home, at least, that was the plan before Sol went nova."

"Sol went nova?"

Jason laughed sharply, "Yeah, all the stars did. I don't know why, I don't know how, I just know that they did. In two days, everything was over. All the Governments gone, entire quadrants dead. We were just waiting for the end to come to us on the _Crichton._ Then you woke up."

"I thought you said I was dying."

"You were. And all of a sudden, you were up and moving, hijacking a shuttle. It was like you were possessed. You were moving strangely, talking... wrong." Jason's voice trailed off as he remembered the broken movements and strange voice Alex had used in the shuttlebay. Had that really been less than a week ago?

"Wouldn't be the first time in history a Starfleet officer's been possessed by some alien being."

Jason shrugged, "True, but there was more to it. Whatever it was that was using you, I think... I think it _knew_ what was going on. It knew where to go, and it knew that if it didn't get off the _Crichton_ fast, it would have died when the ship was destroyed."

"So you think it was involved in the supernovas somehow."

"I'm pretty sure of it." Jason stopped as an idea occurred to him. "Whatever it was shared your mind, what if it wasn't a one way street?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if... some of it's knowledge, or some of it, is still in your head? A kind of... mental spillover? You might know why the stars died. You might know _exactly_ what happened."

Alex shook his head, "I doubt that."

"It's a possibility."

A new voice broke into the conversation, "Yes, it is."

Alex and Jason spun around to find themselves face to face with Rakiin and Herma'Taklan. Rakiin stood with an appraising look on his face, staring at Alex. "All I wanted was the technological information in that database you hold, Starfleeter, but now... this might be infinitely more interesting. Imagine, a weapon that could destroy a star." He laughed, "Khan himself must be smiling on me." Turning to leave, he motioned to Alex. "Bring him. Once Shade is finished with the female, he can begin stripping this one's mind."

Alex launched himself towards the Khanate, Jason close behind him, both of them intent of knocking the Augment down and finding out what they'd done with Selene. Neither reached him.

Alex never even felt the energy pulse that sent him spiraling back into darkness.

-----

Tal, Nyssa and Kordath sat on the bridge, the starlines flickering outside as _Icarus_ soared past Uranus, the planet nothing more than an indistinct blur. The room was quiet as the grave, none of them speaking, all three focused on their own private musings as the chronometer counted down to Earth orbit.

The subspace radio beeped.

Tal and Nyssa jumped at the sudden sound, surprise sending their already high adrenaline levels rocketing to new heights. Only Kordath remained seated, his hand reaching over and activating the radio, reading the data that flowed through the open channel, acting as though he had been expecting it.

As Nyssa stood and walked over to read the data over Kordath's shoulder, Tal clutched his chest over his pounding heart. "I think I'm dead. I've had a heart attack and died." Nyssa smiled thinly, "You're not dead yet, Tal. Stop overreacting." Turning to the Klingon, she stared at the display. "Who's trying to talk to us?"

Kordath barely moved, "The signal is originating in San Francisco."

Tal frowned, "Can't be. The Com array's down. The Khanate can't talk to anyone."

"Then perhaps it is not the Khanate."

Nyssa tapped at the controls. "Text file only. Let's see what it says."

Tal stood and joined them as the file opened, the display blacking out as a line of text appeared.

**IF YOU WISH TO RESCUE YOUR CAPTAIN, FOLLOW THESE INSTRUCTIONS.**

Tal looked up at the others. "Trap?"

Kordath seemed to consider for a moment, "Possibly."

Nyssa shrugged. "So we walk into it, right?"

The three of them looked at each other, nodded and read the instructions.

-----

_"I can hear him now, him and the Jem'Hadar. They're coming. They're coming..."_

Aishwarya jumped slightly as the doors to her library swung open, one of the ship's countless Jem'Hadar entering the cavernous room, dragging the limp body of Jason Madden behind him. Her mind reeling in shock, she watched, unmoving, as the soldier dumped the Starfleet Commander on the tiled floor and left, the doors closing behind it's tall form.

Quietly, she found herself moving forward, staring at the black and red clad body, noticing the lack of breathing, the total stillness. She knew her brother was cruel, deadly, even, but for him to kill Madden and then to taunt her with his corpse...

She fell to her knees beside him, the silver and gold fabric of her skirts contrasting sharply with his torn and savaged uniform. Her hand shaking, she lightly pressed two fingers against his throat...

...and felt nothing.

Her eyes opened wide and she felt her throat close in grief.

Jason Madden was dead.


	18. To Fly on Waxen Wings, Ch 2

**To Fly on Waxen Wings, Chapter Two:  
**

"_When you treat people like animals, you're gonna get bit."_  
-Biddle Coleridge, _"Past Tense, Pt. 2"_

---

Aishwarya choked back a sob as she knelt over the dead body of Jason Madden, feeling anger rising from the depths of her soul to consume her rational mind. The historian found herself shaking in a combination of grief and fury, her small hands clenching into fists. There had been no reason to kill Madden. None. Rakiin had done this to drive home a point. To remind her that he was more powerful than she was, that he always would be.

That she would only ever have what he deigned to give her.

The grief crept back into a dark corner of her mind, the rage taking over. Aishwarya was rarely angered, and most believed that she was incapable of it. They were wrong, and when she was angered, she was capable of the same violence her brother was.

Slowly, she pulled the small knife she kept concealed in her belt, a concession she made to the violence that always surrounded her. The tiny blade glinted wickedly in the glow of the room as she stared at it, imagining the blood that would soon cover it. Years of concealed anger rose in her, bubbling over and boiling her blood.

She was Khanate.

Rising to her feet, she stepped over Madden's body, taking one last second to lay her hand softly on his still hand. "I'm sorry, Commander."

Madden's eyes opened and he smiled a feral grin. "I'm not."

Aishwarya screamed as the Changeling shifted into it's liquid form and leapt at her, the telepath covering her entire body. Seconds later, the library was quiet and still, except for the seething golden mass near the doors. The mass that muffled the screams of the Lady Aishwarya as the Changeling tried to force it's way into her mind.

-----

Rakiin stood in his observation room, the holographic view of the city burning beneath him, as he watched the Changeling (What was it's name? Sirenn?) absorb his sister, a small smile on his features.

Impersonating the corpse of Aishwarya's pet Starfleeter had been a particularly nice addition to this scenario, quite telling, as a matter of fact. Rakiin had seen the glint of the blade in the hologram. He had known about that knife for a long time now. She had started wearing it the day that he had snapped their father's neck in front of her seven year old eyes.

He had been twelve.

Could it be that she had finally found the courage to try and kill him? Could she possibly care about the Humans that much? How close, exactly, was she to treason?

Had she already betrayed her own people?

He smiled as he watched Sirenn shift on the floor of his sister's library. Aishwarya had mental defences that even the best of his Changelings had been unable to penetrate from a distance. Perhaps physical contact with her would eliminate that problem. He had protected her secrets until now, but if she had become a liability to him, she needed to be eliminated.

The Khanate Lord of the Sol Sector lifted a glass of wine to his lips as Sirenn's holographic gold form boiled and writhed before him, and for a second, he could see Aishwarya's features through the liquid, mouth open in a noiseless scream.

He drank.

-----

Alex woke.

Every muscle in his body seemed to be on fire, aching as the residual energy from Herma'Taklan's weapon faded. Micro-seizures rippled up and down his body, the after-effects from a high stun setting. Opening his eyes, he found himself in a dark room, having to squint as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Trying to stand, he discovered that he couldn't, that he was strapped into a metallic chair, medical equipment all around. Swallowing, he found his throat to be completely dry. Whether it was from thirst or fear, he had no idea.

With a sudden lurch, the chair began to move, turning slowly in a complete rotation that didn't stop. The room seemed to spin around him, even though Alex was sure that he was the one who was spinning. Red lights began to flash around him, a high-pitched sound screeching in his ears, adding to the disorientation. If he had eaten at all in the past three days, Alex would had vomited.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped, the chair slowing to a halt. Squeezing his eyes shut, Alex tried to still the spinning room as his brain rebelled against the sudden silence.

"Do as I tell you, Human, and I won't be forced to do that again."

Alex opened his eyes to see a Changeling in front of him, dressed in the trademark orange jumpsuits they always seemed to form themselves. At least there was one species in this screwed-up universe he could recognize. "Who..." The screech sounded again, and Alex screamed as his ears flared in pain.

"You do not ask questions, Human. You answer them. Willingly or not. Is this understood?" Alex nodded painfully as the screech died once more. The Changeling approached, and lowered himself to Alex's seated eye level. "I am Shade."

"Hi."

The Changeling's eyes flared cobalt, and Alex gasped as he felt something in his mind. It felt almost as though a hand was reaching in and sifting through his memories. Images flashed by, words overlapping as his life played out in front of him.

_He was in his mother's arms, newborn eyes struggling to focus in the light of this new world-Alexander Michael Carver, you get down here this instant!-First day of school, the first grade bully knocking him to the ground. A dark form blocking out the sun, protecting him. Jason-C'mon, Carver, no one'll catch us-Grade three. Emily Shore, her blonde hair in pigtails one second, down the next on their first and last date twelve years later-I got in!-Damned engineering courses. I'm taking command, Alex, why do I have to take engineering? You always got to whine so much, Jace?-The flare of a hangover-Your missing PADD? Is this it?-The smell of Chinese food at Madame Chang's--His first sight of the _Albion_-The dream again?-The explosion-I love you. I'll see you soon-Not yet. It is not----_

Both Alex and Shade screamed as the memories came to a jarring halt, the telepathic assault striking a duracrete wall. Tears trickled down Alex's face as the Changeling stumbled back, grasping a support to keep himself standing. For a second, he lost control, features rippling as he briefly reverted to his natural state. Alex gulped air into heaving lungs, sweat dripping into his eyes. His head pounded, his brain screaming from the abusive scan. In his mind's eye, the last image replayed over and over again. Selene's death, the image trapped like a fly in amber, played out before his eyes in crystal clarity. Raising newly bloodshot eyes, he glared at the Changeling. "What... did you do to me?"

The Changeling shook his head, as though trying to brush away a pain. Looking up, Shade fixed Alex with a glare of his own. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Alex spat the words out from between clenched teeth. To lose his wife and then find her again, only to learn that she didn't know him. To lose his home, only to find a twisted, dark reflection of the world he knew. He was standing on the edge of losing everything. His sanity, his temper, everything. All he needed was that one last little push...

"You're a telepath?"

The words shocked Alex out of his fury. "What? No... I'm not... I can't be..."

Shade leaned forward and stared into Alex's eyes, the shifting eyes full of malice. "Only a telepath coulld have created that block, Human. I think that Lord Rakiin is right. There _is_ something in your mind that we want to see."

"What? No, please..." Alex screamed as Shade entered his mind once again.

_The first time he kissed Selene-The first time they fought-unarmed combat lessons at the Academy-The shock as the instructor landed a blow, forcing the air from his lungs-The heat in his face as he blushed, noticing Selene watching from the stands, cheering him on even though he had lost the match-Listening to Jason's teasing as Selene fussed over his bruises that evening---_

Shade scowled, "Unimportant. What are you hiding?" Another scream-

_His promotion to Lieutenant-The pride as the second pip was attached to his collar-Surprise as he saw Jason in the crowd-...took a leave from the _Crichton_. Think I'd miss your promotion?-Gonna be Captain some day-the sharp clink of champagne flutes as they celebrated-Him and Selene stumbling back to their quarters afterwards-their quarters-explosions-the sharp crack as he hit the bulkhead, feeling his body shatter-not ye---_

The pain of the block was even worse this time, thin rivulets of blood trickling from his ears as he watched Shade stumble backwards, gasping in pain as he lost control completely this time. For a moment, a column of shifting golden liquid stood in front of Alex as he cried, his body wracked by painful sobs. Slowly, Shade resumes his form, the flattened features seeming tired, uncertain, almost as though it was an effort to hold his shape. When the Changeling spoke, his words were slurred, emerging from an unfinished throat. "I don't know what you are doing, Human, but I promise you. Eventually, I will pass that block, even if I have to strip every last neuron in your brain to do it."

Alex screamed again.

_Dad, I'm fine. Stop bugging me-Ensign Carver, reroute secondary power to the plasma conduit-So, Em... uh... what're you doing Friday-----_

_-----_

Selene sat in her cell, her hands still shaking as she fought to calm herself. Her cheeks were wet, from both the tears of pain and the tears of grief. Ever since her father had died, she had promised to protect everyone, that someday she would protect the very Federation itself. Her mother had succumbed to the grief, wasting away in front of Selene's eyes, but Selene had used the grief to make herself stronger. The memory of her father had become a lantern in front of her, guiding the way as she grew older.

_You won't fail, Selene. You can't fail._

She had failed.

It hadn't taken long for the Changeling to find her memories of the mission briefing, the images of Starfleet Intelligence giving her the order to destroy the Sol Communications Array so that they could rescue the refugees in Alpha Centauri. She had smiled weakly as the Changeling had gloated. _It's not like you and your master can do anything about it, Changeling. The refugees are already gone by now. You'd never get there in time to stop us._

_Perhaps we were unable to stop you this time, Captain, but that doesn't mean we will be as helpless next time._

She had frozen as he said that, her stomach becoming a cold pit of tangled fear. _What's that supposed to mean?_

_It is possible that the risks we encounter by using Humans in the mining colonies outweigh the advantages. Perhaps we should simply... eliminate them._

He had turned to leave, Selene falling to the ground in shock. How many Human slaves were there in Khanate space? She couldn't even begin to grasp that number, it was simply too large for her overtaxed mind to understand. Before the door to the cell block had opened, the Changeling had looked back at her, his sickening smile wide. _I'm told that your friend the Lieutenant is waiting for me in the other room. I promise, Captain, I will not be as kind with him as I was with you._ And then she had been left alone in her cell, weeping as her mind forced her to see how completely she had failed her father's memory. How many people would now be killed because of the information taken from her mind?

Alex's first scream filled the room, muffled by the bulkheads, but not by much. She looked up at the sound, her eyes bloodshot and her head pounding. They were torturing him. They were torturing him like they had tortured her, and that damned Changeling was probably enjoying every single second of it. Every thought of grief, every thought of guilt, every thought except for revenge fled her mind. There would soon be enough deaths on her conscience, she would not have a single one more. Alex Carver would live. She had sworn to protect everyone, and that now included him. Shaking with fury now, she listened as his screams filled the room.

She had failed once, she would not fail again.

-----

The doors swung open with a hydraulic whine, scraping on the floor, and Jason found himself pushed into the torch-lit darkness of the observation room. Beneath his feet, the hologram of San Francisco continued to burn, the ruins of the communications array smoking directly under him. Rakiin stood in the centre of the room, his arms folded across his broad chest as he stared at a separate hologram before him. A golden liquid mass writhed on the floor, and Jason found himself curious. "What is that?" Herma'Taklan punched Jason in the lower back, driving the Starfleet Commander to his knees in pain. "Speak when spoken to!"

Rakiin sighed and waved the Jem'Hadar back. "One of my Changelings interrogating a suspicion of mine. None of your concern, Commander." With a flick of his wrist, the hologram shut down, dissipating in a burst of static. The Khanate turned toward Jason, an inscrutable look on his face. "Why did you come here, Commander?"

Jason frowned, "I didn't really have a choice."

The blow was unexpected and harsh, sending Jason crashing to the ground. Rakiin stood over him, his arm lowering. There was a look of anger on his face now, anger mixed with... regret? "Your arrival has complicated things for me, Commander. Made them much more interesting than I care for." Jason found himself pulled to his feet, the Khanate's face inches from his own. "I like control, Commander, and you have taken some of that from me."

He was thrown, hitting the floor and rolling to a stop against the far wall. Rakiin slowly walked towards the prone Commander, stooping to pick him up again. Jason spun around, a fist striking the Khanate Lord in the jaw. He was tired of this. Tired of running. Tired of being beaten. Rakiin's head snapped back, then he adjusted his shoulders and smiled. "So, you Starfleeters can fight. Good."

The Khanate's next punch sent Jason skidding back a dozen feet. Jason blinked, shaking his head to clear his mind. "You created a traitor in my ranks, Commander." Jason found himself lifted over Rakiin's head, staring down at the burning holographic city beneath them. "But I won't kill the traitor. I'll kill the one who created the traitor."

And like God casting Lucifer from Heaven, Rakiin threw Jason to the ground.

-----

Alex was lost in his memories.

Images flashed past his eyes and through Shade's mind, an entire life replayed out of order. Every truth, every lie. Every whisper, every scream. Every love, every hate. And every time, the stream of his memories ended at the same place, as though someone had built a dam with the words _not yet._

_I'll see you soon-no-i love you-no-Not yet----_ Alex heard screaming. Distant, down the hall maybe. Absently, he felt sorry for whoever had made that scream.

Then he realized that it had been him.

A blow struck him across the face, sending his head snapping to the right. He didn't even blink. Bloodshot eyes refused to focus as Shade struck him again. And again. And again. The Changeling had almost completely lost his ability to form a humanoid body now, becoming little more than a column of pulsing golden protoplasm. Alex's lips formed words, muttering to himself. Things he knew, things he had read, things he had thought about, his mind desperately trying to stay sane. "'_Boldly go where no man has gone before..._' Zefram Cochrane. Warp 10 limit is impossible to break. Step around it. The perfect ship. _USS Enterprise_, NCC-1701-C. _Ambassador_ class. Perfect crew: Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer. Spock, First Officer. Leonard McCoy, CMO. James Kirk, Captain. Old Kirk, not young Kirk. What about Janeway? Nah, only get Janeway if you wanna get lost..."

The Changeling stopped hitting him and visibly shook. The transformation was slow, hesitant, but eventually it formed the general shape of a man. The face was slack, almost as though it had suffered a stroke. When it walked, it did so with a painful gait. It's mouth refused to move as it tried to speak, the words sounding in Alex's head, broken up as though it was over a bad signal.

_Short... recuperation... not done... you yet... Alexander..._

The door to the dark room opened and two Jem'Hadar entered, removing the restraints around his arms and legs and dragging his exhausted body out in the hallway. The Changeling's words still echoing in his mind.

_Not done... you yet..._

_Not done..._

_Not yet..._

-----

Selene looked up when she heard the footsteps.

She pressed herself into the far corner of her cell, scurrying back and away from the Jem'Hadar as they approached, their rhythmic footsteps sounding in time as they marched. It was dark in the cell, the only light coming from the flickering blue forcefield. Locking her elbows and knees, she folded herself as far into the shadowy corner as possible, desperately trying to remain out of sight.

The lights flared on, burning her eyes and making her try to shrink back even farther. She had sat in the pitch black for hours, her eyes slowly but surely growing accustomed to the dim illumination. The sudden brightness shocked her, her eyes instinctively squeezing shut to keep the harmful light out. She heard the slight burst of static and smelled the faint whiff of ozone as the forcefield fell, but even as she opened her eyes, she couldn't make out anything more than an indistinct blur, black figures against a white background.

The lights went out again, and she cursed herself for falling into such a simple trap. The sudden lights were designed to disable her, to prevent her from attempting an escape, and dammit, it had worked. The afterimage of the lights blinded her, and she was forced to stand still for a moment while it faded away, allowing her eyes to readjust to the sudden darkness. Her eyes squinting in the gloom, she looked towards the entrance to the cell.

Alex lay on the floor, curled into a ball and shivering. She could hear him muttering brokenly as he rocked himself back and forth, barely conscious. Slowly, she fell to her knees beside him, brushing the back of her hand against his forehead, nearly pulling it back as she felt the heat of his skin. Bloodshot eyes flickered open and closed in a ghastly pale face, the pale blue light of the forcefield adding a spectral cast to his drawn features. His breathing was shallow and gasping, his trembling hands clawing at his throat, desperately trying to grasp the locket around his neck. He looked like hell, a pale reflection of the man she had met.

"Alex?" Gently, she took his hands, pulling them away from his throat. Still he continued to rock, muttering noises she could barely hear under his breath. She tried to still him, but he fought her, pulling himself back, jerking away from her touch.

"Not yet not yet not yet not yet..."

The words made no sense to her, and she felt her anger rise again, casting a glance past the forcefield at the door to the cell block, where she assumed the Changeling hid. She wouldn't let the Khanate take another person from her. Not again.

Alex's eyes cracked open, his brown eyes filled with feverish delirium. An exhausted smile spread across his face, "Hey, you."

Selene let loose a relieved breath. She had been afraid... "Hey."

"...missed you..."

A confused look fell across her face. Before they had been captured, Alex hadn't even been able to look at her half the time. Why had he missed her? Leaning more closely, she looked into his eyes and saw something there that frightened her.

Love.

Pulling his hands free from hers, he removed the locket and placed it in her palm.

"...I have your locket..."

-----

_Sirenn plunged deep into the mind of the Lady Aishwarya, the physical contact with her skin increasing his telepathic abilities, a process similar to the Vulcan Mind Meld. Down he swam, brushing past the formidable mental blockades she had created, pushing aside every defence she could muster, until he could see it, the light of her consciousness, every secret his Lord Rakiin wanted to know, everything that she hid..._

The bright sunlight poured through the stained glass window in coruscating shades of reds and blues and greens, but no amount of bright light could illuminate the entirety of the dark and gothic structure that the Changeling found himself in. Slowly, he spun in place, confused. This should not be happening. Aishwarya's memories should be flowing past in a clear stream, almost like a holonovel. This was wrong.

"This is my mind."

Sirenn turned and saw the Lady Aishwarya standing before him, bathed in the light streaming from the Rose Window. Sunlight reflected off her dark hair, glittering off the silver and golden robes. They stood across from each other, her in the light, him in the darkness. Soft chanting filled the air, and Sirenn swore he could smell something burning.

"The smell is incense. The chant is a requiem mass sung by Benedictine monks. A rather appropriate selection, I believe." She stepped forward, her Sari transforming with every step. One second it was gold, the next a deep red. She seemed to shift appearances before him, the images overlapping each other. Sirenn found himself backing further into the darkness.

"Is there a problem, Changeling? Don't you like my mind?" Aishwarya stopped at the very edge of the light, her face backlit by the window. "It's a trick I learned as a child. I based it on an idea by the Human artist Leonardo Da Vinci. He created an entire cathedral in his own mind. Every brick. Every staircase. Every buttress. Every pane of glass. Within it, he held every fact he ever learned, everything that made him who he was." Sirenn cowered as the light faded away, dimming to moonlight. Aishwarya seemed to melt into the deep shadows, her voice echoing through the dark cathedral, reverberating off of every arch. "I, however, have taken his process one step further." Candles burst into flame around him, illuminating the main hall in unsteady light. "You entered my mind uninvited, Changeling. And you are _not_ welcome in it."

Looking up, Sirenn saw enormous statues looming above him, their stone eyes gazing down. Fear gripped the Changeling's soul as he turned and ran for the enormous oaken doors, only to find them locked.

He was trapped.

Aishwaya's last words still echoed through the hall, filling him with dread. Leaving the doors behind him, he fled deeper into the cathedral, desperately searching for a way to return to his own body.

-----

In Aishwarya's library, the golden mass that was Sirenn thrashed about more violently than ever, as Aishwarya's struggles calmed within.

-----

Jason rolled over onto his side, his breath hitching in his throat as he struggled to stand. His left eye was swollen shut, bruises covering his body. Painfully, he pushed himself to his knees...

And fell as his arms gave out.

Rakiin brushed Jason's blood off his gloved hands as he turned to Herma'Taklan, who had stood by the entire time, watching his master beat the Starfleet Officer to a bloody mess. "I believe that I've quite enjoyed myself enough for now, Herma'Taklan. Place him in the cell with the others."

"Yes, my Lord."

Jason's one good eye glared at the Khanate as he was dragged from the room.

Rakiin didn't even have the courtesy to notice.

-----

Alex's eyes slowly and painfully opened, the fever passing. His entire body ached, the back of his neck felt as though his spine were grinding against the skull. His throat was raw from screaming, and his head pounded unmercifully.

Weakly pushing himself to a seated position against the cold cell wall, he struggled to focus his eyes in the darkness.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Selene's voice was quiet, almost hesitant as she spoke. Squinting, he could just discern her silhouette in the blue glow. "Tell you what?" His voice was raspy, hoarse. It hardly even sounded like his own.

Her arm lifted and a small hologram appeared in the air above her hand. A younger Selene and Alex spun around in midair, laughing. In the bright light given off by the image, Alex could see the face of the Selene that shared his cell, a face filled with conflicting emotions. Anger, sadness, and worst of all...

Profound disappointment.

As the holographic recording ended, Alex and Selene stared at each other from opposite corners of their cell, neither one knowing what to say.

-----

The Changeling ran through the darkened hallways of Aishwarya's mind, the walls of the memory cathedral towering around him. He felt like he had been running for hours, trapped in his humanoid form as Aishwarya's laughter rang through the stone corridors.

"I thought that you wanted to see my secrets, Changeling."

Sirenn kept running, a door standing open at the end of the hall before him. Desperately, he ran through it, shutting it behind him. Alone in the shadows, the Changeling telepath leaned against the door, exhausted.

"Feeling safe, Changeling?"

Aishwarya appeared, emerging from the shadows of the room as though she was made from them. Sirenn felt his eyes widen in terror as this slender woman walked up to him, her eyes glowing with fury. "You are in _my mind_, Sirenn. My mind. My world. You can't escape me here."

Sirenn felt his consciousness begin to dim as the shadows crept forward, surrounding him. The last words he heard were Aishwarya's.

"I will _not_ be toyed with. Not by you. Not by my brother."

The shadows stilled, and the Changeling was gone.

-----

In the library, the golden mass abruptly stopped moving, it's colour changing to black as it dissolved into a powder, disintegrating around Aishwarya as she stood, brushing the ashes of the dead changeling off her skirts. For a long moment, she looked down at the pile of dust at her feet. The Changeling had underestimated her, just like so many people did.

Sheathing the knife that she still clutched in her hand, she turned and walked up to her desk, sitting before her computer. "Are you there?"

There was a second's silence before the voice answered. _"I am here. This channel is secure?"  
_  
"Of course. Would I be talking to you otherwise?" Aishwarya sighed. "You understand the plan?"

_"I do."  
_  
She nodded, even though no one saw her. "In forty-five minutes, the _Gilgamesh_'s shields and weapons will be down. Will that be enough time?"

_"I believe so."  
_  
"There are three prisoners. Weller and two Starfleet officers from a parallel dimension."

_"Understood."_ There was a pause as the person on the other end of the communication line considered. _"It is good to hear your voice again, Aishwarya."_

Aishwarya smiled. "You, too, Kordath. You, too."

-----

And on the empty bridge of the _Icarus_, Kordath deactivated the subspace radio and began to plan Selene Weller's rescue.


	19. To Fly on Waxen Wings, Ch 3

**To Fly on Waxen Wings, Chapter Three:  
**

"_The splendour of fighting and killing; a bloodbath in the cause of vengeance; who _wouldn't_ want to come?"_  
-Lt. Jadzia Dax, _"Blood Oath"_

---

"When were you going to tell me?"

Alex looked away, unable to watch the disappointment etched on every line of Selene's face. The locket still hung from her fingertips, the gold surface reflecting the flickering blue light of the forcefield. The hologram mercifully shut down, the smiling images fading away into the darkness of the cell. They sat there in the black, neither able to make a sound, Alex due to renewed grief, and Selene to shock.

"When were you going to tell me?"

Alex swallowed, wincing as the muscles of his throat constricted against the dry tissue. Unshed tears burned in his eyes as he fought to control himself. His heart raced, pounding in time with the dull thud in his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but the lump in his throat kept him from explaining himself to her.

With a sudden explosion of movement, Selene whipped the locket at him, the small, golden object flying past his face and clattering to the ground. Using the momentum from her throw, she lifted herself to her feet and pounced on him, her hands clenching fistfuls of his uniform shirt as she drove him to the ground. Alex didn't fight back as he hit the hard floor, his body limp as she struck him. "When, Carver? When were you going to tell me about this? How could you keep this from me? Didn't you think that I had a right to know? Didn't you even think about me?"

"That's all I thought about!"

The pressure against his shoulders relaxed and Selene stood, backing away from him. Rolling over, Alex pushed himself to his knees, taking the precious few seconds to consider how he could explain. Turning to face her, he slumped against the wall, arms wrapped around his raised knees. "Do you know what it's like? Have you ever lost someone you loved?"

"I'm in the middle of a war. Of course I have."

"As horrible as that feeling is, do you have any idea how much harder it is when they come back? When you find them again and they have no memory of you? All of the memories, the inside jokes, the emotions, they're all gone. It's like there's suddenly a wall between you, and you don't know if they built it, or if you did." Alex laughed bitterly, "Tantalus in the underworld."

"What?"

Alex sighed, "In Greek mythology, Tantalus was a man who was punished by the Gods. He was tied to a tree, with fruit hanging just out of reach and water just below his lips. Forced to see and feel everything he wanted, but to know that, no matter what he did, it was just out of his grasp. That's what it's like to see you, Selene. You're so much like her that it hurts, but you're not her, and I have to keep reminding myself of that. Every time I see you, I think to myself that maybe she survived, that maybe, just maybe, if I wish hard enough, this will all have been a nightmare. That I'll wake up, and none of this will have happened. But it did. All of it happened. She's dead and I'm alive.

"How do you forgive yourself for that?"

Selene stepped over and picked up the locket, staring at it for a long moment. Then, gently, she knelt and placed it in his hand. "You're right. I'm not her. I'm me. I don't remember anything that happened between the two of you. I never lived any of it." She sighed, hanging her head, "Did you know who I was when you saved me from the Jem'Hadar?" Alex shook his head, and a small smile spread across her face. With two fingers, she forced him to look at her. "Then you're wrong, too. You survived for a reason, Alex, even if she didn't. You saved my life, even when you had no idea who I was. That tells me everything that I need to know about you, Alex Carver. You're a good man, and no matter what your reasons have been since, I know that I can trust you.

"And I hope that you can trust me."

Alex and Selene looked at each other, and for the first time since his wife's death, Alex let himself grieve.

-----

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Tal and Nyssa sat on the bridge, staring incredulously at Kordath, who merely lifted an eyebrow. "No, I am not 'kidding' you."

Nyssa stood and threw her arms in the air, rolling her eyes. "Of all the crazy, half-cooked schemes that we've pulled on this ship, I think this one's the most insane! Well? Tal?" The Bajoran didn't answer, his shocked face turning pensive. "Tal, you can't seriously be considering this!"

Tal shrugged, "It's doable. Assuming that the Khanate cruiser goes down like the intel says it will." Nyssa felt her jaw drop even further. Tal noticed and raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not saying that it's gonna be easy. Hell, flying of this calibre might even be beyond yours truly. And like I said, _assuming_ that the cruiser's power goes down. It's doable."

Kordath turned in his seat to look at her, "Unfortunately, we do not have many options, Nyssa, and we have even less time. The Captain has been captured, and I am sure that we all understand the full implications of that." The three of them fell silent, and Nyssa sighed.

"Fine. How much longer?"

Kordath checked the chronometer. "Thirty-seven minutes."

Tal cleared his throat, drawing the attention back to him. "Not to spoil a perfectly good tension-filled moment, but what about these other two prisoners with the Skipper? What do we know about them?"

Kordath frowned, and rose to his feet. "Two Starfleet officers from a parallel dimension. I know little more than that."

Nyssa laid the palms of her hands on the back of her chair and leaned forward, "You know, one of these days you're going to have to tell us exactly how you got this intel, Kordath."

"Perhaps."

Tal waved a hand in the air, "Yeah, not done over here." Pointing a finger at his chest, he snapped his fingers. "Focus. Got your attention? Good. What do you mean by 'parallel dimension'? Does that mean they're from that evil Starfleet universe the stories talk about? All leather and murder and goatees?" Glancing at Nyssa, he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, maybe the leather wouldn't be so bad..." Lifting a hydrospanner that was sitting on the console, Nyssa threw it at him, watching him duck as the spanner bounced off the wall. "Will you grow up? The Skipper hired you to fly, not provide comic relief."

"Funny, I thought it was the other way around."

Kordath stood, towering over the bickering Bajoran and Romulan. "Enough! If the two of you wish to argue and joke, I would suggest you do so _after_ we have retrieved the Captain!" Turning to Tal, Kordath lifted the spanner from the deck and held it before him like a knife. "Tal. The Starfleet prisoners are from a parallel universe, but one close to ours. Or so I have been told. They should not be a danger, but we should be prepared incase they are. Nyssa. There is a great likelihood of injury in this mission. Am I to assume the sickbay is prepared?"

Nyssa flinched at the growl in the Klingon's voice. "Yeah, I'm ready. You get them back on the ship, and I'll patch everyone up." Glancing at Tal, she frowned. "Assuming that there's a ship left." The Bajoran stuck out his tongue, his face face twisting in mockery. Nyssa rolled her eyes and turned to leave the bridge. "I still say that we're all insane."

"Perhaps."

-----

Selene watched Alex draw a shaky breath and straighten uneasily. Some of the colour had returned to his face, and though he was still shaking, she assumed it was from grief now, rather than the fever. He still looked drained and weak, a fractured image of the man she had met in the bunker, but the haunted look had finally left his eyes, leaving behind a determination she recognized.

She saw it in her own eyes every time she looked in the mirror.

Rising to his feet, Alex wiped a hand across his face, brushing away the tears that streaked his cheeks. "So. What do we do now?" Reaching into her pocket, Selene fished around until she found something. Lifting it up, she examined it in the dim light. A circular piece of metal, maybe half an inch in diameter, it looked like a coin. She shrugged, not really caring what it was. Placing it between her thumb and index finger, she flicked it towards the forcefield. There was a bright spark as it collided, making them both wince. The coin rolled back towards her, smoking and melted. "Not much while this forcefield's up. Think you can handle that?" Alex smiled hesitantly.

"I'm an engineer, remember?"

As he began feeling along the walls (looking for the forcefield controls, she guessed), Selene chuckled. "This universe or another. You engineers all seem to think you're miracle workers."

"That's because we are." He smiled over his shoulder at her, a genuine smile for once, and she smiled back. Now that she knew about her counterpart in his universe, she found that she could understand him. At least now, when he looked at her, he saw _her_, and not her reflection. For the most part at least. Slowly, he crept along the wall, his hands outstretched. "Funny thing about forcefields." He said "They take up a lot of power given all they do. Plain old bars, or even a wall, would be just as, if not more, efficient. You can't hack into a grate's power network. A grate doesn't need a computer to work."

"A computer that you could hack into?"

He chuckled, "That's right. A computer... just like... _this _one." She watched as he closed his eyes, muttering under his breath

and shrieked in surprise as he screamed and fell to the ground.

The forcefield flared as it dropped, and Selene scuttled backwards on the palms of her hands as another form was thrown into the cell. Dressed in red and black like Alex, she assumed that it was his friend Jason. Looking up, she saw the Changeling standing at the entrance to the cell, two Jem'Hadar at his sides. A flash of light, and the forcefield was reactivated.

The Changeling's eyes were fixed on Alex's convulsing form, almost glowing bright blue as they stared. And as Selene watched, the Changeling's features began to shift.

-----

Rakiin stepped through the doors to Aishwarya's library and allowed a second for his superior eyesight to adjust to the darkness that pervaded the room. The flickering lights of the computer glowpanels had been deactivated, plunging the room into stygian depths lit only by a flickering lightsource above his sister's desk.

Aishwarya sat in one of the high-backed chairs, her head bowed down and her slight hands folded meekly in her lap. At her feet lay the remains of the Changeling Sirenn, nothing more than a pile of black ash. Her golden Sari clashed with the lightless surroundings, making her appear like a candle in the darkness.

Rakiin stepped forward, his own white robe brushing aside the shadows, master of everything, even here in Aishwarya's domain. He stood before her, the ashes of the Changeling lying between them. Still, Aishwarya remained still, her eyes fixed on the remains. Rakiin had watched as she had stepped free of the suddenly dead Changeling, moving to sit at her desk. Sirenn's death still puzzled him. How had she managed to kill a telepath as powerful as a Changeling?

"You sent him, didn't you, Rakiin?"

Aishwarya's voice was thin as onion paper, as likely to crack and rip as express the thoughts of the speaker. As he watched, she shifted for the first time since he had entered the room, raising her face to look at him. Naked pain and fright merged in her dark brown eyes, recreating her face into a mask of anguish. This time it was a statement, rather than a question. "You sent him."

Slowly, Rakiin nodded.

She knelt before him, her terror filled gaze returning to the ashes staining the floor of her library. "Was it necessary to kill him to make your point?"

Rakiin refused to allow his surprise to show, maintaining a stoic expression as his mind began to churn madly. She had not killed the Changeling, then? No. She believed that he had done it as proof of his power. Interesting. If the Changeling's fate could not be placed at her feet, than at whose could it be placed?

Still, the Changeling's mysterious death could prove beneficial. The reasons could be found at a later time. The advantages, however, could be reaped now. "What is the fate of a Changeling to me, Aishwarya, when it has passed beyond it's usefulness?"

"You sent him to frighten me, to remind me of my place" Aishwarya drew a shuddering breath, and knelt her head before him. "Consider me suitably reminded, My Lord."

Rakiin allowed a small smile to crack his stony expression. Her independence was a nuisance occasionally, yet she had her uses. To rid himself of her now would be... premature. Turning his back on her, he made for the doors. "This room is a mess, sister. Someone should clean it." As he stepped from the room, his eyes now adjusting to the light, he barely heard her whispered response.

"Yes. Someone should."

-----

There are certain moments when you can see through to the truth of your surroundings, understand that what an object may appear to be on the surface, is not what it is at it's core. That what you see and hear is nothing more than a glamour placed there to deceive you. Alex experienced that moment of clarity almost immediately.

He was standing on the beach, staring out at the roiling waters of the ocean.

The air was filled with the smell of ozone and salt, the wind picking at his hair, blowing hard enough that he had to squint to keep the sand out of his eyes. A storm was brewing on the horizon, dark grey clouds clashing with the blue skies above. He wrapped his arms around himself, huddling against the sea chill.

On the storm-tossed waves, images played out, his entire life rippling on the surface. Kneeling in the wet sand, he let the water lap up around his knees, feeling the chill of his memories touching his skin. With each tiny wave, a different memory brushed across his consciousness.

Wave.

_But I wanna play on the swing set!_

Wave.

_Well, I was thinking of heading to British Columbia. Thought that you might want to come with me._

Wave.

_Don't worry, guys. I'll be fine. It's Starfleet Academy. What could happen to me there?_

Looking up from rippling water, he looked up into the distance. The storm was drawing closer, driving rain working the waves into a frenzy a dozen meters from shore. The line between the storm and the calm was knife-sharp, ten foot tall waves vanishing suddenly into silent waters.

Alex could feel the Changeling's presence before he saw it, a sliver of darkness in the light, the salty air suddenly cut through with the smell of death. Rising to his feet, he turned and saw the shape-shifter, it's unfinished features narrowed in concentration. As Alex watched, Shade stepped into the ocean, striding through the memories, absorbing everything that had made Alex Carver the man he was.

Alex felt anger begin to boil up inside as he waded further into the ocean. The Changeling was sifting through his mind, pulling apart the pieces of his soul and examining them, holding them up to judgment. Why this time was different from the last, Alex had no idea. Before, he had been submerged, drowning in the experiences and sensations of his life. Now, he could watch them pass him by, feel them brush his mind, but he was not lost in them. This time, he was neutral, a casual observer. This Changeling had no business in his mind. The telepath was the shark in the water.

No. He was the leach.

The cold water sloshed around his legs as he moved forward, deeper into the ocean, moving with more determination than he had felt since...

Since Selene.

A wave lapped against his thigh and for a second, he was standing in the darkness of their quarters, Selene standing behind him as he stared out the window.

_It was bad though, wasn't it? _

_What makes you say that? _

_The fact that you're up and out of bed. Usually you at least try to go back to sleep before getting up. _

_You know me too well._

_I'm your wife. I should._

With a disembodying jolt, he was back in the ocean of his mind, the Changeling growing closer with every step. Shaking his head, he remembered the real world, tethered himself to it. He remembered that there were still people out there who needed him. Selene Carver may be dead, but Selene Weller was still alive. Jason Madden was still alive.

He was not alone.

Memories crashed and churned against each other as he got closer to the Changeling and the storm, memories of those final minutes on the _Albion_.

Wave. _Fine. I'm going to bed. Happy?_

Another jolt, and he realized that he was now waist deep in the water, the crashing waves of the storm no more than a few feet away. The Changeling stood in front of him, his blue eyes focused on the water that surrounded them, slowly moving towards the edge of the storm front. Alex drew his arm back, his fist clenched

Wave. _Can you hear me? Alex, don't leave me... please._

and decked the Changeling.

It was sloppy, weak and dulled by the fact that they were both almost chest deep in water, but it had the desired effect. Shade fell back, stumbling towards the edge of the high waves, gaping at Alex in shock, as though he hadn't even noticed Alex's presence until that moment. Flailing, the Changeling splashed around, trying to stay above water. "This is not possible. You should not be able to interfere."

"New rules." With an explosion of water, Alex swung again, driving the Changeling ever closer to the storm. "You don't belong here."

Wave. _I'll see you soon. I love you._

"Get out of my _mind!_"

Wave. **Not yet.**

And Alex _pushed_, driving the Changeling into the storm.

Wave. **It is not over yet.**

As both men fell into the crashing waves, the mental block cracked for a split second, sending them both screaming back into the real world.

-----

Tal sat alone on the bridge, running over the flight plan for the hundredth time. Convinced that this might work, he nodded to himself and absently pushed a few buttons on his console. Nyssa was doubtlessly in her sickbay, and he had a vague idea where Kordath was, and if he was right, this plan was crazier than even Nyssa had believed. Glancing at the chronometer, he sighed.

Ten minutes to go.

-----

Selene watched in shock as the Shapeshifter's features melted and reformed, his hair lengthening and his pale skin darkening. As his shoulders grew broader and he gained several inches in height, even the Jem'Hadar at his sides stepped back, raising their weapons and training them on the telepath. She was so focused on the Changeling that it took her a moment to realize that Alex had stopped screaming and risen to his feet. Standing up herself, she watched as Alex stepped over Jason's prone body and moved to the forcefield, stopping less than an inch from the barrier. His eyes never left the Changeling, and Selene realized that he was still unconscious, his body reacting to whatever was happening between the two of them.

A silent battle of wills played out for a moment between them, their eyes never breaking contact. Slowly, the shapeshifter's features blurred again, reforming into a vague shape that she recognized as the Khanate he had impersonated before interrogating her. Then he shifted again, becoming Alex, then her, a Jem'Hadar, all quickly followed by a myriad of faces. The changes were coming so quickly upon each other that his face became little more than a blur, barely having a chance to shift once before shifting again.

Turning her attention to Alex, she noticed that he was shaking, his face hardened by intense concentration, a small rivulet of blood dripping down from one nostril. He seemed to be on the verge of collapse, the mental battle between him and the Changeling taking as much a toll on him as it was on the other. The air in the cell seemed charged, burning with power. As one, the Jem'Hadar turned and focused their weapons on Alex.

Time slowed.

She could feel the forcefield drop, every particle burning out in a tiny maelstrom of energy as the barrier collapsed. She saw the emitter tips of the Jem'Hadar plasma weapons begin to glow, ready to fire. She heard Alex and the Changeling, their whispered voices breaking under the strain.

"It is not over yet."

With twin screams wrenching from their throats, they collapsed, tossed backwards by whatever force had ended their battle. Alex tumbled back into the cell, striking the far wall before falling to his knees while the Changeling stumbled back, melting away into a flailing golden column that held only the vague shape of a man. Selene and the Jem'Hadar fell back in surprise, the guards' shots going wild and striking the ceiling as the Changeling struck them, throwing them aside as it struggled to regain control of it's own body. One of the Jem'Hadar got to it's feet and took aim at the writhing shapeshifter, while the other took aim at Alex.

Without thinking, Selene spun and ran towards Alex's still shaking form. She had promised herself that he would live, and no matter what had been between him and her alternate, he had saved _her_ life at least once. She had promised to protect him, and she _would not fail!_

She never even had the chance to fail. Before it could fire, the Jem'Hadar was struck by a hail of plasma bolts, falling to the ground in a heap of charred flesh, quickly joined by it's companion. The Changeling slowly began to reclaim it's humanoid shape, Selene could see a face forming, but before it could speak, plasma rained down on it, blue discharges peppering across the golden surface. It stumbled back, driven against the bulkhead by the force, desperately trying to avoid the fire. Another salvo hit it and it finally collapsed to the deck, spreading out into a golden pool, not dead but unconscious.

Selene stared at the entrance to the cell, unable to see where the fire had come from. Slow and steady footsteps sounded, drawing closer. Standing before Alex, she prepared herself to attack, ready to fight and die if need be.

A figure stepped in front of the door, it's eyes drifting from Selene, to the slowly rising Alex and finally to the limp form of Jason, a Jem'Hadar plasma rifle held limply at one side. Moaning, Jason looked at their saviour, a look of confusion drifting over his features before he spoke, pain intensifying a southern drawl.

"Aishwarya?"

And Aishwarya, historian, sister to Lord Rakiin, and now traitor to her people, smiled as she nodded.

-----

Nyssa chased after Kordath, almost having to run to keep up with the Klingon's long strides. _Icarus'_ main corridor was dark, her power shut down as they drifted ever closer to Earth. Kordath claimed that without power or engines, they should appear like any other small piece of space debris.

Should. Nyssa hated that word.

"You are insane! I wasn't sure about it before, but you are! You're certifiable, Kordath!" The silver haired Klingon didn't even slow down at her outburst, and Nyssa cursed to herself as she kept running, reaching out to try and grab his arm. "We haven't used that thing in over two years! What if it doesn't work? Even when we had an actual mechanic he could only get it to work half the time!"

"It will work."

"You don't know that!" She caught a hold of his arm and pulled him to a stop. Alone in the corridor, they stared at each other. Klingon and Romulan. "You don't know that. Even if Tal can get us where we need to be without getting us killed, what if your intelligence is bad? What if the _Gilgamesh_'s shields and weapons are still up?"

Kordath smiled and placed a large hand on her shoulder. "The shields will be down." Turning, he walked off down the corridor. "And if they are not, then today will be a good day to die."

As he vanished into the gloom of the dark corridor, Nyssa frowned. "It's never a good day to die."

Six minutes to go.

-----

Jason winced as Aishwarya helped him sit, the pain from the beating that Rakiin had given him burning like fire in his veins. Every muscle ached, every tendon was sore. Hell, even his _hair_ hurt. Alex sat next to him, moving tenderly. Jason chuckled. "You look like Hell."

"Yeah. Same to you."

Aishwarya dropped the weapon and touched him gently, examining his wounds. When she spoke, it was a statement. "Rakiin." Jason nodded, regretting the motion almost instantly as the pain behind his eyes flared. Note to self: Movement bad.

"Who are you?"

The voice struck a chord deep inside Jason and he looked up to see a ghost. Selene stood there, her dark hair shorter than he remembered, dressed head to toe in black, a tattered leather jacket over her shoulders. In her hands, she held one of the Jem'Hadar weapons trained on Aishwarya's back. Aishwarya sighed, rising to her feet and turning to face the weapon. "I would be the one who just saved your life, Captain Weller."

"Why?"

"We have a mutual friend, Captain. A friend who, as it happens, is going to die in four and a half minutes if I fail to do what I came here to do." Turning her back on Selene, she faced Alex. "You are Alexander Carver?" Alex nodded gingerly, wiping a small trail of blood from his face. "Your nanites, are they still active?"

"Yeah. Why?"

She smiled thinly. "Can you use them to deactivate this ship's main power?"

"Probably."

The small whine of Selene's weapon powering up filled the room as she pressed it against the back of Aishwarya's head. "I wasn't done asking questions."

"Kordath."

Aishwarya spoke the name softly, but the effect it had was incredible. Selene dropped the weapon, her gaze not leaving the other woman as she stepped back. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Do it."

As Alex got up and accessed the computer terminal in the hall, casting an inscrutable look at the unconscious Changeling on the floor, Aishwarya knelt down beside Jason and began to wipe the blood from his face. Wincing under her ministrations, he barely heard her whisper.

"Four minutes."

-----

The nanites had infiltrated the _Gilgamesh's_ computer effortlessly, gliding past firewalls and security measures that to Alex's mind were centuries out of date. In the space of heartbeats, he found himself deep within the ship's main power distribution network.

It was difficult to concentrate. In the space of a couple of hours, he had gone from telepathic torture, to feverish delerium, to grieving his dead wife with her identical twin, to a telepathic fistfight. His body had been running on adrenaline and willpower far too long. In the near future, he was going to collapse. He just had to keep himself going for a little while longer. Just a little while.

Streams of data flowed past him, reminding him of the ocean that he and Shade had fought in. For an instant, the mental block that Shade had described had shattered, letting loose a tidal wave of memories, but try as he might, he couldn't remember any of it now. Whatever the block was, it had rebuilt itself and sealed the memories away, leaving him in the dark once again.

Shaking off the image, he plunged his mind into the data, reaching out and touching the software that controlled the ship's shields and weapons systems, reprogramming the information with his thoughts. For a second, he _was _the ship's systems, nothing more than data and information. His mental grasp on the computer firm, he twisted, ripping the software to shreds as he rose from the computer and back into himself.

Opening his eyes to the suddenly darkening ship, he looked at Selene and grinned.

"Piece of cake."

Nodding, Selene turned and looked at where Aishwarya was helping Jason to his feet. "What about you? You can't stay here now."

Aishwarya smiled, "Of course I can. I came to the cells to check on Commander Madden when you escaped, taking me hostage and shutting down the ship's main computer. I was, of course, too weak to fight back when you killed the guards."

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

The slim woman nodded, handing Jason over to Alex. "Why else would I have had you infiltrate the computer? It fits within my alibi."

Alex winced as Jason shifted, raising his head to look at Aishwarya, "But what about Rakiin? Will he believe you?" His voice was strained, and Alex imagined that his own must sound similar.

Aishwarya's expression became hard. "Given what happened earlier today, Rakiin will believe what I tell him." Stepping over to Alex and Jason, she looked at Alex, her expression softening. "Take care of him, Lieutenant. Please." Alex nodded. "I will."

Aishwarya turned and looked at Selene. "Your ship is on the way. Your best hope for escape is to reach the forward _Kindjal_ bay. Can you make it there?"

Selene frowned, and Alex answered for her. "We'll make it."

Aishwarya looked up as alarms began to blare in the distance, red emergency lights bathing the room in a bloody glow. "There isn't much time." Looking at Selene, she asked, "You know what to do?"

Selene nodded, lifted the Jem'Hadar rifle and fired.

Jason screamed as Aishwarya fell backwards, a puppet whose strings had been cut. Alex gaped at Selene in shock, "What did you do?"

"What she wanted me to. Her alibi'll hold more weight if I stun her. She'll wake up with a headache, but she'll wake up." Picking up another rifle from the dead Jem'Hadar around them, she handed it to Alex. "We've gotta go."

As they cautiously left the detention cells, Jason looked back at Aishwarya's limp form. "You're wrong, Alex." At Alex's puzzled look, Jason sighed. "She's not the same. Not at all."

Silently, the three Starfleet officers vanished into the depths of the powerless cruiser.

-----

_Icarus_'s engines flared, turning an uncontrolled tumble into a headlong dive into Earth's atmosphere. On the bridge, Tal opened a shipwide channel. "Zero minutes!"

Nyssa came tearing the hatch as the ship plunged through the cloud cover, emerging a hundred miles out over the pacific ocean, moving at full impulse as she skimmed the waves, hugging the water. Spray coated the windows, blocking the view of the rapidly approaching west coast of North America. Tal's concentration was focused on his sensor readings, giving him a clear view of where he was going even through the water. The control yoke shook almost uncontrollably, and he was forced to maintain an iron grip to keep the ship on course.

On the screens, the ruined skyline of San Francisco approached at breakneck speed, the dark draconic shape of the _Gilgamesh_ looming above the decimated city. As he and Nyssa watched, the giant cruiser seemed to shudder, dipping slightly towards the city before catching itself. "Nyssa?"

"They're down! The shields are down!" Triumphantly, Nyssa clapped the back of Tal's chair, "They're on emergency power!"

Tal's face broke into a wide grin as he lifted the ship from the ocean, the backwash from her engines creating a fan of water a hundred meters high as _Icarus_ cut towards the _Gilgamesh_. Watching the black hull of the ship, Tal flipped the comm switch.

"Kordath? We're ready."

-----

Deep inside _Icarus_, Kordath silently adjusted the weapons that covered him, everything from a disruptor, to his _Mek'leth_, to his _Bat'leth_. "You understand the plan?"

Nyssa's voice crackled from the speakers. _"If we don't hear from you in thirty minutes, get out of the system and don't come back._"

Kordath nodded as he took a deep breath, feeling his hearts pound in his chest, pumping adrenaline through his system. Taking a deep breath, he stretched his muscles, lifting the ancient _Bat'leth_ and holding it ready before him as he whispered to himself.

"_Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam."_

Today is a good day to die.

-----

_Icarus _spun on her axis, Tal's maneuvering barely missing the gleaming black hull of the _Gilgamesh_ as she turned towards the sky, beginning a near vertical climb back into orbit.

As she vanished into the clouds, a sparkling cloud of energy appeared as Kordath rematerialized fifty feet above the Khanate cruiser, plummeting towards his enemy, his _bat'leth_ swinging as he fell.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

Well, here we are. I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays (I sure did).Only one thanks this time around. I want to thank my mother, who helped me out with Rakiin and Aishwarya's little moment when I had a nasty case of writer's block. I'm telling you, that Aishwarya's a crafty one. (Man, I love writing her!)


	20. To Fly on Waxen Wings, Ch 4

**To Fly on Waxen Wings, Chapter Four:  
**

"_I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This we do gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember… Victory is life."_

-Battle Oath of the Jem'Hadar Warrior, _"To The Death"_

-----

Sehti was not an important Khanate, in fact, one could easily go so far as to say that he was completely _unimportant. _His genetic material, though infinitely more impressive than a baseline Human's, had failed him, leaving him weaker and slower than other members of his race. He was crippled and disabled, a nothing in the eyes of those who should have been his peers. Usually, those like him were put to death as children, to erase the possibility of them becoming a burden on society. He considered himself to be extremely fortunate to even be alive, let alone to work on the bridge of a ship like the _Gilgamesh_.

His duties were relegated to next to nothing, easy chores for the poor, slow Sehti. Around him rose the semi-circular bridge, three tiers of Khanate and Jem'Hadar manning various stations that faced an enormous curving viewscreen that, at the moment, showed the ruined city of San Francisco, the sun just starting to peek through the ashen cloud cover. Sehti sat at the very bottom of the tiers, maintaining power usage across the enormous cruiser. A slow, tedious job, watching power levels that never flickered. And so much of the time, he dreamed. Dreamed of becoming the Khanate he should have been, of ruling over the entire Galaxy with the Lady Aishwarya at his side, of her brother Rakiin begging forgiveness at his feet, of crushing the tiny remains of the Federation in his fist while the entire Khanate race chanted his name. Sehti! Sehti! Sehti!

So focused was he upon this latest fantasy that he completely missed the tiny flicker in the power readouts, noticing only when the main core crashed and the ship began to fall.

-----

Kordath, eldest Son of Kamor, understood rage. He knew how it could be as useful as the sharpest _bat'leth_ when honed and focused, but he had also seen how it would consume the user when denied that focus, how it would creep through a man's soul and turn the master into the slave. Darkness and light were divided by a thin line of blood, but whose blood, no one could say until it was drawn.

As he struck the glossy black hull of the _Gilgamesh_, he felt the rage burning in the back of his mind, a wild Targ wrapped in chains, biting, clawing to be free. Resolutely, he came to an understanding with the beast. The Targ would be given it's prey soon enough, would be freed soon enough, but for now, it had to remain silent. Snarling and snapping, but reservedly obedient, it crawled back into it's cage, allowing Kordath to think clearly.

High winds threatened to force him from the Khanate ship's hull, sending him rolling to the side almost as soon as he had landed. Swinging around, he sank his _bat'leth_ deep into the black armoured plates, producing an ear-splitting shriek that drowned out even the howling winds as he anchored himself. Pulling himself to his feet, he watched as two of the blade-winged _Kindjals_ streaked into the clouds, intent on the destruction of the _Icarus_. The Targ snapped and hissed, but stayed put. Tal and Nyssa could handle the _Kindjals_, and he forced any thought of them from his mind. He had deceived his friends, lied about his reasons for wishing to board the _Gilgamesh._ He had not come for the Captain. He knew that she could save herself. No, his reasons were far more personal, and he hoped that his ancestors would forgive his lie.

Cracking open an access hatch on the ship's spine, he dropped into the darkened recesses of the _Gilgamesh_, a hunter stalking his prey.

-----

Claudius stared in shock as _Gilgamesh_ plunged into darkness, the eight story high cavern that was main engineering falling into shadow as the warp coils that ringed it faded into shadow. The floor shifted beneath his feet as artificial gravity shut down, the Earth's own pull catching hold of the enormous cruiser and dragging it inexorably towards the ground, the stuttering remnants of her anti-gravity units struggling to keep her upright. Grasping the railing behind him, he watched as the room tilted, sending Khanate engineers and Jem'Hadar guards alike tumbling.

"Emergency power! Activate emergency power!"

Helena dropped from the third story gangplank and hit the deck running, the chief engineer's slim form racing for the main control panels. Claudius released the railing and skidded along the rapidly steepening slope to her side, reaching the backup power generator almost as soon as she did. Without even looking at each other, the two Khanate activated the core, the room quickly righting itself as the crimson emergency lights rose. A look of fury on her face, Helena turned and glared at Claudius.

"Find out what the Hell just happened!"

-----

Herma'Taklan stepped into the detention cells, his nose wrinkling at the rancid smell of burnt flesh. Scowling, he knelt beside the two dead Jem'Hadar guards, examining their wounds with a careful eye. Plasma burns. They had been killed with Jem'Hadar weapons. Casting his eyes about, he saw the unconscious form of the Changeling, the limp body of the Lady Aishwarya, but no sign of his men's energy weapons.

And no sign of the Humans.

With a moan, Aishwarya opened her eyes, shifting as she pushed herself to her knees. Herma'Taklan stood and stepped to her side, cautiously examining her. Her clothes were burnt, a black mar on the golden fabrics. A stun discharge at point-blank range to the chest. Grabbing her wrist, he forced her to look at him as he growled, "What happened here?"

"The guards were going to kill the Humans." Her voice was weak, her eyes unfocused as she fought to free herself from unconsciousness. "The Changeling went mad, distracted the guards. The Humans captured me, they killed the Jem'Hadar. They killed them."

Herma'Taklan frowned, a deep pit of uncertainty growing inside of him. Something else happened here. "Where are they going?"

"I do not know, Commander. I do not know."

Releasing the Lady's arm, Herma'Taklan pulled two pikes from the weapons cache at the doors. His Lord needed to know of this. He would not avoid responsibility. The guards had been under his command, their failure had been his. His race had made the same oath for their entire history. Regardless of whether they had served the Dominion or the Khanate, the oath had never changed.

_I am dead. We are all dead. We go into battle to win back our lives. This we do gladly, because we are Jem'Hadar. Remember. Victory is Life._

He was dead. And until he reclaimed the Humans and redeemed his men's dishonour, he would remain so.

_Victory is life._

As he set out into the corridors to search for his Lord, he gripped the pikes more tightly.

_I am dead._

-----

Rakiin sat in the darkness of his Observation chamber, the floor inactive, the only lights the flickering holographic torches set into the walls. His ship had failed, his crew had failed…

His own control had failed.

At his feet lay the body of the Jem'Hadar guard who had been unable to explain what was happening sufficiently quickly for his tastes. Now he sat alone in his sanctuary, seething as his ship struggled to right itself.

Herma'Taklan entered the chamber, the Jem'Hadar commander's long white hair dyed a blood red by the dull emergency lights. In either hand, he held one of the long pikes his race seemed to favour. Kneeling, the Jem'Hadar bowed his head, nearly touching the deck. "My Lord."

Rakiin leaned back in his command throne, and stared at the Jem'Hadar over the tips of his steepled fingers. "What happened, Commander?" His voice was sharp as a dagger, cutting through the tension filled air, every syllable striking Herma'Taklan like a blow. To the Jem'Hadar's credit, he never even glanced at the corpse lying at Rakiin's feet.

"The Starfleeters have escaped, My Lord. The one, Carver, the engineer, infiltrated our computer and corrupted our systems."

Rising, Rakiin turned his back on Herma'Taklan, listening to the omnipresent screams of the alarms as he stepped over the corpse. With every breath, he felt his control on his anger slipping. "How did they escape?"

"The forcefield was deactivated, My Lord Rakiin. The Changeling was interrogating the Human."

"He was interrogating the Human without your presence? Without my knowledge?" Rakiin's voice was tense, a taught wire on the verge of snapping. Control. He needed control. "And why was the forcefield deactivated, Commander."

Herma'Taklan's response was strong, but filled with shame. "My men were going to kill the Humans."

With a primal scream, Rakiin spun around, dagger in hand. The steel blade slid across Herma'Taklan's face, arcing away tipped in milky white blood. The force of the blow knocked the Jem'Hadar to the ground, the pikes skittering off across the deck as Rakiin stood over him, his chest heaving beneath his dark tunic. Herma'Taklan remained still, quivering as he fought the urge to touch the wound that now ran from his right temple to his left cheek, marring his elegant features. Kneeling before the Commander, Rakiin snarled, his eyes burning. "Penance for your failure, Jem'Hadar. You are _dead_."

Herma'Taklan nodded, "I am dead."

Rakiin stood. "I give you one chance to reclaim your life, dead man. One chance to redeem yourself.

"Find the Humans, and I will let you live."

Herma'Taklan nodded, a fierce determination tinged with pain growing in his dark eyes, ivory blood tinted scarlet in the light. "Do you wish them alive or dead, My Lord?"

Rakiin took a deep breath, fighting to regain control of himself as he fought rage born of a feeling of helplessness. Control. Control. His voice became very calm, and almost conversational as he answered.

"I want Carver alive."

-----

Alex crept through the shadows behind Selene, Jason's left arm looped around his shoulders, his own right arm supporting his friend while his left clutched the Jem'Hadar rifle. Selene looked back over her shoulder at him. "'We'll make it', you said. I don't know where the _Kindjal _bay is, do you?"

He nodded, "Downloaded the ship's specs while I was in the main computer." Letting go of Jason for a split second, he tapped his temple, "The map's right here." Selene arched an eyebrow. "Nice. Can you get us there without running into any guards?"

Alex shook his head, "I just know the layout, I don't know where the guards are." Looking around at the dark corridor and listening to the screaming alarms, he shrugged, "But my guess is that they'll be heading this way."

Jason pulled free, slumping against the wall. "I can walk." Alex frowned as he grabbed his friend's arm, "You can barely stand. What? Are you going to crawl to safety?"

Jason wrenched his arm free, stumbling for a step before catching himself. "You're hardly any better. We'll be better off if you don't have to carry me." The two old friends glared at each other for a long moment, neither willing to back down. "Or do I have to make that an order, Lieutenant?"

Alex flinched. Jason had never taken that tone with him, even if he always had been a higher rank. Selene watched the two of them, her eyes darting back and forth between them and the corridor. Footsteps rang in the distance, a counter-beat to the alarms. She hefted the rifle and took aim. "Guys. Settle this fast, because I think they're coming."

Alex broke the staring contest first, backing away and moving towards the bulkhead, moving to open an access panel. "No, Sir, Commander. That won't be necessary." Removing the panel, he waved at the maintenance tube inside. "After you."

Jason all but collapsed to the deck, crawling through the hatch. Alex looked at Selene and nodded, crawling into the hatch himself right behind her. As he reached out into the corridor to replace the panel, blue plasma bolts sizzled through the air, striking the deck inches from his hands. Jumping back into the maintenance tube, he spun and looked at the others.

"Move!"

-----

"We've got incoming!"

Nyssa's shout shocked Tal back to reality, interrupting the impromptu victory dance his mind was currently engaged in. Taking a quick glance at his scanners, he saw two Khanate fighters gaining as he throttled up and broke atmosphere. These _Kindjals_ ducked and wove, spinning around air pockets and doggedly sticking to him. In short, these fighters were piloted by flesh and blood pilots, not stupid drones. A single phrase flew through Tal's mind as he watched his pursuers open fire.

"Oh crap."

Nyssa grabbed the back of his chair, holding on for dear life as Tal threw _Icarus_ into a barrel roll, narrowly avoiding the phaser fire coming at them from behind. "Okay. What's the plan, now?"

Tal gulped as one of the phaser beams missed the forward hull by a couple of meters. "Plan? I don't have a plan! Do you have a plan? 'Cause I don't have a plan. You were right. We're all insane!" Pain exploded in the back of his head as Nyssa struck him with her open palm. "Will you snap out of it? Get us out of here!"

"Right. Right. Plan. Need a plan." Tal's eyes flicked back and forth across the pilot's console as he threw the ship left and right, wincing as every phaser beam shot past. "Mars. We'll go to Mars."

Nyssa looked at him like he was crazy, which, of course, was a point that Tal was ready to agree on. "Why Mars?"

"Do you want to fly this thing!" Tal shrieked as the first shot hit, overloading a console on the far side of the bridge. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back hard on the control yoke. At his command, _Icarus_ flipped over and increased to full speed, heading at full impulse towards Earth's closest neighbour. With an amazed look on their faces, Tal and Nyssa looked up at the top of the bridge windows and watched the two _Kindjals_ pass by them. For a split second, Tal was certain he could see one of the Khanate pilots looking up at _them..._

and then they were gone, _Icarus_ gaining ground as the _Kindjals_ were forced to come to a stop and loop around in pursuit.

Nyssa gulped behind him. "Oh, they're not going to like that."

-----

Aishwarya stood alone in the dim detention block, staring down at the corpses at her feet. This was war, she reminded herself, feeling the burning of unshed tears in her eyes. If she hadn't fired and killed them, the Starfleeters would all be dead now. A life for a life.

Small comfort, she thought, wondering if the coldness in the pit of her stomach was normal for a cold-blooded murderer.

Against the wall, the Changeling moved, little more than a slight shifting of it's liquid form from one spot to another. Removing a weapon from the cache by the doors, she pointed it at the golden puddle.

And froze.

No, she told herself as she lowered the weapon. She wouldn't kill again. She would not become her brother.

Dropping the weapon to the floor, she turned and left the room. She would deal with the Changeling in her own way, if it came to that.

-----

Kordath stood before the large double doors, _bat'leth_ in hand, the red emergency lights casting incarnadine shadows across his dark features. At his feet laid the corpses of two Jem'Hadar guards, their white blood still staining the tips of his blade. In the distance he could hear the rhythmic sounds of running guards. His presence had been discovered. The time for secrecy and subtlety was over.

Sheathing the _bat'leth_ across his back, he pressed both palms to the doors and pushed, forcing the massive portals open with pure strength. His teeth gritted as malfunctioning hydraulics screamed in protest as they struggled to keep the threshold to the room sealed, and failed.

Kordath stepped into the darkened chamber, unsheathing the curved blade and holding it aloft before him. The Targ of his anger snarled in anticipation, sensing that it's release was near. Flickering lights illuminated the room from sconces on the walls, casting a dim yellow glow that contrasted with the red emergency lights in the corridor beyond. Cautiously, he sniffed at the air and bared his teeth. His prey was near.

A slow clapping emanated from the deep shadows of the room, echoing throughout the cavernous chamber, a counter-balance to the cries of the alarms. Slowly, laughter joined the applause, softly at first, but slowly gaining strength. Mocking and full of contempt. Kordath stood still, staring into the wavering darkness even as a dozen Jem'Hadar guards entered behind him, their pulse weapons and pikes aimed at his back. Kordath could hear every single weapon being charged, could smell the ionization in the air as they prepared to fire…

"Stop!"

The laughter had come to a shattering halt, the single word cutting through the air. Rakiin emerged from the shadows, the edges of his clothes indistinguishable from the inky darkness behind him. Behind Kordath, the Jem'Hadar lowered their weapons as the Khanate smiled and pulled two curved swords from the sheath strapped across his back. Holding his arms out to his sides, the swords at the ready, Rakiin braced himself for combat.

"The Son of Kamor is mine."

The room was deadly silent as Kordath shifted his feet and raised his own weapon.

-----

Herma'Taklan was, above all else, Jem'Hadar, a warrior, born and bred. From his first memories, he had served the Khanate, struggling to rise to the notice of one of the warlords and become a warrior great enough to serve as commander of his Lord's legions. He had fought, he had trained, he had killed and finally, he had risen. There had been no pride in him the day that Lord Rakiin had honoured him with the title of Commander of his Personal Guard. Pride in oneself was nothing. Pride became a hindrance, prevented clarity of vision.

But pain, pain drove you forward. Pain created focus. Pain had made him Commander.

Overconfidence had made him dead.

Without conscious thought, his hand reached up and began to rub at the wound that scarred his elegant features. Slowly at first, but with increasing pressure. Pain radiated from it, burning his mind. Blood began to seep from it again, ivory fluid dripping down his chin. White blood on white skin.

The only truth of life was that failure led to death, and death was pain. Pain drove you, made you fight for life. Circles.

Behind him, he could hear the whispers of movement as his Lord prepared to fight the Klingon. His warrior's mind heard every sound, the rustling of clothes as the opponents adjusted their positions, the soft hiss of leather on metal as the Klingon's foot shifted its position on the deck, the faint rub of his Lord's thumb on the hilt of one of his blades.

He heard it all, and stepped forward, leaving the Observation chamber.

None of the Jem'Hadar who had just entered the chamber moved a solitary muscle as he walked past, their slim bodies held at attention, their dark eyes fixed on their Lord and the Klingon intruder, but he felt their gaze on him all the same. They could see the scar, the bloody trail written across his face. They knew of his failure.

He was not worthy to lead them, not worthy to fight for his Lord.

He was dead.

His pain increased with each guard he passed, cutting into his soul as well as his face. He could feel their disdain for the living corpse.

As he left the chamber, he thought on the Humans. The deaths of the Humans were his life, his honour. His Lord had given him an order, and he would fulfill his Lord's wishes.

Pain radiated from his wound, and the world came into focus. The Humans had caused this pain, and this pain would drive him to them.

-----

Selene was lost in the shadowy corridors of the _Gilgamesh, _her stolen Jem'Hadar rifle held at the ready, her eyes scanning the labyrinthine passageway. Nothing seemed to be coming, but the Jem'Hadar were like wraiths, appearing from the shadows every time she thought that they had lost them. Satisfied that they were safe for the moment, and that they had lost their pursuers, she kicked on the access hatch behind her. "All clear."

Alex emerged first, his skin given a ghastly cast by the emergency lights. He still hadn't fully recovered from his fight with the Changeling, and he looked like he was about to break in half if she looked at him wrong, but he was fighting. This was the man she imagined that he must have been before his wife had died, willing to face anything as long as he could do it with a joke. Pushing himself free of the maintenance tube, he groaned, struggling to lift his own stolen rifle. "And I thought the Jefferies tubes on the _Albion_ were small. I don't think my back is ever going to forgive me for this."

Selene chuckled under her breath, then frowned as she felt a twinge in her still-healing leg. "Had to say that, didn't you?"

"Sorry." Alex knelt down and reached into the hatch. "Come on, Jace."

"I can do it myself!" Jason pushed Alex out of the way, forcing himself out of the hatch and falling to the deck with a sharp exclamation of pain. Selene jumped at the loud sound and instinctively began searching the corridor for any sign that someone had heard. "Could you be a little louder, please? You didn't give away our position."

"Sorry." The word was spoken without any tone of apology whatsoever as Jason pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the bulkhead. "Maybe next time, I'll tell that genetically-engineered son of a bitch not to beat me to a pulp before we try to escape. Or, hey, better yet. How about I wait until he's unarmed, and then I'll shoot him."

The corridor became dead quiet, the repetitious alarms notwithstanding, as Selene froze. Lowering the rifle, she turned and faced the Starfleet Commander. His eye was still swollen shut, and bruises covered his face, but there was something in his good eye that she didn't like. It looked too much like disgust for her tastes. Stepping forward, she glared at him. "Listen to me. Right now, I don't care what your world was like. I don't care if you never had to shoot anybody. Honestly, I wish that I never had to. But sometimes, I do. You want to know what would have happened to your girlfriend back there if I hadn't shot her? You want to know what the Khanate does to traitors? Some of the stories vary. Last I heard, the current favourite is explosive decompression. Shoved out an airlock. Not a pleasant way to die." Jason was silent, and Alex was casting glances over his shoulder as she ploughed on. "That's the reality of this world, Commander. It's harsh and it's mean, and we do what we have to, even when we don't like it. I wish I could know what your home was like, what I was like there, because it sounds a whole lot better than here.

"But wishes... wishes don't bring the dead back to you. No matter how many times you ask."

As she said it, she noticed Alex look away, fixing his gaze on a point farther down the corridor, but pointedly away from her. That was when she saw the irony of her statement. To these two men, _she_ was the dead come back to life.

Looking away from Madden, she stepped up next to Alex. "Where do we go from here?"

Alex swallowed, and she felt a surge of pity for him. In trying to make a point to Madden, she had just dragged Alex back into his own darkly personal Hell. Resting a hand on his shoulder, she smiled at him. "Hey. Where to, Miracle Boy?"

Alex let out a short bark of laughter and pointed his rifle down the corridor. "That way."

Selene shrugged her shoulders and grinned, leaving her anger at Madden behind her. "Then let's go."

-----

"Prophets!"

The curse was out of Tal's mouth before anything else, and suddenly Nyssa found herself being thrown from her chair and skidding across the bridge as Tal flung _Icarus_ into a tight curve, narrowly avoiding the enormous wall of red rock that loomed in front of them. The ship was filled with a terrible screeching sound as the underbelly of the secondary hull scraped along the stone, setting Nyssa's teeth to grating. The fact that the sound was being carried through the deckplates, on which Nyssa was now lying, didn't help much. Getting to her feet, she took the time to strap herself into the chair this time. "Don't do that again."

"What? You wanna end up smeared across a cavern wall next time? No problem. I can do that."

_Icarus_ was flying through one of the thousands of canyons that crisscrossed the surface of the red planet, flying at high speeds. _Recklessly _high speeds, in Nyssa's opinion. Her fingers had turned into talons, digging into the patched armrests of her chair as Tal sent the ship weaving between the kilometres high canyon walls, the two _Kindjals_ still close behind.

A point that was brought back to the forefront of her mind as a phaser beam struck the cavern wall in front of them, creating a rockslide that bounded down towards them. "Tal!"

"I see it!" The Bajoran actually bent over his console, pushing the control yoke forward with his own body weight. _Icarus_ dove, narrowly avoiding a collision. Spinning the ship into a tight barrel roll, Tal ducked another phaser blast.

The subspace radio crackled, filling the bridge with static before a voice sounded from the speakers. "_Human vessel. Stand down_."

Tal and Nyssa glanced at each other. "They're talking to us now?" Tal wondered. "I thought that standard Khanate procedure was shoot first, ask questions never."

"Guess wonders don't end." Nyssa flicked on the radio. "Hi, there. Um… How about no?" A phaser beam scorched the canyon wall, making Tal jump and, thus, making the ship spin again. "Okay, so you didn't like that answer, huh?"

"_Weapons lock on your port nacelle. Stand down and live."_

_Icarus_ bucked, Tal yanking back hard on the controls and sending the cargo ship rising up and out of the canyon. Beneath them, the _Kindjals_ broke into opposite directions and accelerated, now tracking _Icarus_ across an open plain. Tal gulped. "Y'know, maybe Mars was a bad idea."

"No, the canyon was a bad idea. At least up here, they actually have to shoot us to kill us, rather than bringing a wall down on us."

As if in answer to Nyssa's statement, the lights on the bridge flickered and the controls were yanked out of Tal's hands. Outside, Nyssa could see the Khanate fighters taking up positions at either side of the ship as they nosed upwards and out of Mars' atmosphere. "Tal, what are you doing?"

The blond-haired Bajoran cursed, looking at the console as if it were a beloved pet that had just tried to bite him, an expression of annoyed disbelief on his face. "I'm not doing anything! That's the problem."

"_Human vessel."_ Nyssa and Tal looked out the windows at the accompanying _Kindjals_ as the dusky atmosphere darkened into the black of vacuum. _"We have accessed your flight controls. Any attempt to regain control will result in your vessel's destruction._"

Tal and Nyssa looked at each other as _Icarus_ flew in formation with the enemy, headed back towards Earth. Tal pursed his lips and nodded. "Yep. We're doing a great job of helping the Skipper."

"Tal?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

-----

The two combatants stood in the middle of the Observation chamber, still as stone, each examining the other, searching for flaws.

Rakiin watched Kordath, saw the nicks and scrapes on the curved blade of the Klingon's _bat'leth_, saw the increase in grey hairs and the thin lines around his eyes. The Klingon was getting old, age reflected in every inch of his being. A disruptor and a _mek'leth_ lay strapped to his side. In the old days, the Klingon would never have approached a disruptor. His precious honour would have forbade it. There was sweat beading in his hair, his breath coming a shorter intervals. Kordath was exerting himself.

Rakiin smiled and shifted his grip on his own swords. The Klingon was not merely _getting_ old, he _was_ old. This would be over quickly.

Kordath felt the Targ of his anger writhing, snapping at it's bonds, and before he even raised a weapon against Rakiin, he fought a war within himself. He saw Rakiin's thin smile, noted how the Khanate's grip changed, loosening ever so slightly on the twin swords. He recognized those blades. Based on a style known as the Katana, they were thin, but strong. Minimal handguards. He knew those swords.

He had given them to Rakiin himself.

"You appear well, Rakiin."

The Khanate Lord nodded lightly, his eyes never leaving Kordath's own. "And you appear old, Kordath. Older than I remember."

"Perhaps."

One of Rakiin's blades swept forward in a mocking salute, the other curving behind his back. "Nothing more to say, Kordath? No vows of vengeance?"

Kordath shifted his weight to his right foot, the leather boot whispering as it drifted across the deck plates. "What remains to be said? Have we not said it all before?"

Rakiin's smile grew wider. "Yes. I believe we have."

Rakiin rushed forward, his swords aiming fast strikes at Kordath's arm and side. Releasing the _bat'leth_ with one hand, Kordath unsheathed the _mek'leth_, blocking one blow with the broadsword and the other with the long, curving dagger. For a long second they stood there, eyes locked on each other. Pushing upwards with the dagger, and downwards with his _bat'leth_, Kordath spun away from Rakiin, bringing his sword around left handed, aiming for the Khanate's chest.

Rakiin parried quickly, dancing back a step. Kordath continued to turn, the swords scraping along each others' length until they were both free. Within two heartbeats, both men were back where they had started.

Kordath attacked first this time, throwing his _mek'leth_ at Rakiin, the sharp weapon buzz-sawing through the air. Rakiin tried to block with his left sword, but the _mek'leth_ knocked the blade from the Khanate's hand. Kordath charged and Rakiin met him, both of them now reduced to a single blade each. Savagely, they danced around each other, Klingon martial artistry against Human. Blade against blade. Teacher against student. Impetuous youth against experienced age.

And youth was winning.

"I almost pity you, Kordath." Rakiin shook his head, "Five years ago, you may have actually won this battle."

"I have not lost yet."

"Not yet." Rakiin ducked beneath a savage swing, the sharp blade missing him by a hair's breadth. Pivoting on one foot, the Khanate shifted his sword into a backhanded grip and slashed upwards, catching Kordath across the chest.

Kordath howled as he fell back, blood dripping from the wound. His grip on the _bat'leth_ weakened, as did his grip on his anger. The Targ snapped it's bonds, filling Kordath's mind with fury and sending him flying forwards, howling in anger and grief. Almost casually, Rakiin sidestepped the charge and struck Kordath in the base of the neck with his sword's hilt. Kordath skidded across the ground, dazed.

"Control. That was the first lesson you taught me. Control over one's actions, and control over one's self. Without control, Kordath, we are little more than rabid animals, don't you agree?" Rakiin stepped forward into Kordath's field of view, kicking the Klingon over onto his back. Black spots danced at the corners of Kordath's vision, the Khanate Lord looming over him, sword poised to strike. "And rabid animals, my teacher, are put to death. That was the first lesson you taught me."

"But it was not the last." And Kordath pulled his disruptor and flung it into the air seconds before it exploded, blinding everyone in the room as it erupted into a blaze of green fire. Rakiin screamed in painful surprise as he backed away, his free hand covering his eyes as Kordath swung the _bat'leth_ around, aiming for Rakiin's sword.

He missed.

For the first time in long years, Kordath missed a clean target, his weapon swinging of it's own volition for a new target. Whether it was chance, or the Goddess of Destiny, the only surviving member of the Klingon Pantheon, guiding his hand, his _bat'leth_ struck inches lower than he had planned...

And severed Rakiin's right hand.

The Khanate screamed in agony as Kordath rose to his feet and ran for the door, killing any Jem'Hadar foolish enough to stand in his way. His family's honour had not been satisfied here today, but it's appetite had been sated.

For now, at least.

-----

Plasma bolts spattered across the bulkhead as Alex, Selene and Jason leapt through the door into the forward _Kindjal_ bay, Alex and Selene rolling on the deck and returning fire with their own stolen rifles. "Just the way it works!" Selene yelled over the sounds of gunfire, "Just when you're about to get away, fate's gotta bite you in the butt!"

Alex didn't bother responding as he scrambled to his feet, dodging the weapons fire as he bolted for the door controls. Slapping his hand to the panel, the door irised closed, cutting them off from the pursuing Jem'Hadar. Slumping against the wall, he slid to the ground. "That was a big bite."

They had been less than a hundred feet from their destination when the guards had found them, opening fire without a second's hesitation. It was sheer luck that they'd managed to make it inside.

Well, almost.

Jason had stumbled in the middle of their flight, catching a plasma blast to his shoulder, sending him spinning around. Alex had managed to catch him, but the burn was bad. Jason was fading in and out of consciousness now, barely able to hold it together for longer than a few moments.

Alex had only been this scared once before, and it had actually been with Jason at his side. Back at the Academy, they had been sent on a simple mission to repair an orbital sensor platform in orbit of Jupiter that had been damaged in a small meteor shower. Nothing too elaborate. Easy enough that a handful of cadets should have been able to manage it themselves. Jason, the Upperclassman, had been in command, while Alex had been little more than an observer, an engineering cadet who, if he had been lucky, might have been allowed to tighten a few bolts (metaphorically speaking). The mission had been simple enough, but, like Selene had just said, _Just when you're about to get away, fate's gotta bite you in the butt._

It had been a disaster. The platform had taken more damage than anyone had thought, and it's structural integrity had breached, breaking the station apart around the cadets. Three cadets had died that day, failing to secure their EVA suits in time. It had been the first time that Jason had been forced to watch people under his command die, and it had nearly driven him mad.

The explosion had damaged their emergency transport beacons, leaving them stranded in orbit of Jupiter until a Search and Rescue team had been able to find them. Alex had stayed at Jason's side the entire time, hanging in space, watching the gas giant beneath them drift slowly closer. He had nearly been out of air and he had felt half frozen by the time they had been found, but he had never left Jason's side.

When they had been returned to the Academy, the Commandant had presented them with commendations, saying that they had faced the situation like true Starfleet Officers, and when Alex had looked at Jason, something had been missing in his friend's eyes.

Innocence.

And that had terrified him more than hanging powerless in space.

Now, once again, they were in a life or death situation with Jason impaired and incapable of saving himself. And again, as he had before, Alex refused to leave him behind.

"Come on," Alex grunted as he picked the semi-conscious Jason up off the floor, wincing under his weight. Behind them, Selene followed, her rifle never wavering from the door, which had begun to glow under the assault from the other side.

"Just go." Jason's voice was a pain-filled whisper, cracking even as he spoke. "I'm dead anyway... No point…"

"Shut up. I'm not leaving you behind, got it?" Alex winced as his own injuries flared with pain, "Just get that idea out of your head right now."

"Alex?"

Alex turned at Selene's voice, noticing for the first time that the _Kindjal_ bay's main doors were open, giving them an incredible view of San Francisco's ruined skyline. Triangular fighter craft were parked side by side along the walls, each ready for the taking. That was the plan, anyway. Get on board one of these things, access it's computers, and leave. "Yeah?"

"We've got a problem."

Alex frowned. He really hated those words. "What?"

Selene looked up from one of the displays on the walls of the bay, frowning as she pointed at it. "The _Kindjals_ are locked in place."

"What?" Alex's mind raced. It made sense. Lock the fighters into place when the ship lost power, that way they didn't skid all over the place when the deck tilted. "Well, there goes the plan."

Stepping up to the very edge of the deck, Alex and Jason looked out the bay doors, careful not to touch the emergency forcefield that separated them from a thousand foot drop. Selene stepped up next to him, and the three of them looked down. Selene cursed, "Great. Just great. What are we supposed to do now?"

"Nothing."

The three of them turned just in time to watch Herma'Taklan deshroud behind them, the Jem'Hadar's face bleeding from a deep gash that ran from temple to cheek. In his hands, he held a rifle of his own, aimed directly at Alex. Behind the wounded Jem'Hadar, the door began to melt as the guards on the other side made progress. They had almost breached the room.

"Hiya, Hermy," Jason's voice was thick. "How ya' doin'?" Alex glanced down at his friend as Jason started chuckling madly. He was going into shock. They had to get out of here. Now.

Herma'Taklan stepped forward and pressed a control on the wall of bay. Suddenly, the forcefield behind Alex snapped off, filling the room with howling wind. "What are you going to do, Herma'Taklan?" Alex was forced to shout to be heard over the noise. "Kill us?"

The Jem'Hadar's expression never changed, his eyes staying as stony as ever. "No. I'm not going to kill you, Carver." The rifle's aim changed, pointing directly at Selene. "I'm going to kill them."

And he fired.

-----

"Try it now."

"Nope. Nothing."

Tal cursed as he pushed himself out from under the pilot's console. Time was running out. They were descending into Earth's atmosphere already, and he could almost imagine that he could see the black stain of the _Gilgamesh_ hovering over San Francisco. So far, he had tried everything that he could think of to break the _Kindjal_s' control over _Icarus_, and he had absolutely nothing to show for it. Zip. Zero. Zilch. The only thing that he hadn't done was completely shut down the ship's power and reboot, because it was crazy to do something like that while entering atmo.

Wait a minute...

"Nyssa, strap in."

The Romulan medic looked up at him as he pushed her out of his seat and started flicking switches and pushing buttons. "Tal? What are you doing, Tal?"

"Nothing to worry about. Just... strap in." The atmospheric shields were glowing bright red, which meant that they were just about done with re-entry. Another couple of minutes…

"Tal, you know I don't like it when you tell me not to worry. What are you up to?"

"Nothing. Are you strapped in, yet?" He could barely see the two _Kindjal_s flying in escort formation beside him, which, hopefully, meant that they could barely see him. Hopefully.

"Yes, I'm strapped in." Tal could just about hear Nyssa bracing herself. _Probably a good idea._ He thought. "Good. Good, so am I." The red flames burning across the shields was beginning to dim and flicker out. Tal took a deep breath and clenched his eyes closed, looking away as he placed his hand directly over a big red button on his console. The button that no pilot ever, _ever_ wanted to press while in flight.

And he pressed it.

The lights throughout the ship went out, the engines died and _Icarus_ dropped from the sky like a very large stone.

-----

It was like an epiphany.

Jason Madden didn't want to live.

No, scratch that. He didn't want to live _here._

Selene's words ran through his mind. _That's the reality of this world, Commander. It's harsh and it's mean, and we do what we have to, even when we don't like it._ And he asked himself the question:

What's the point?

What's the point in surviving just for the sake of survival? Was that what he'd been doing since this entire thing had started? Surviving? He'd been ready to die a week ago on the _Crichton_, why shouldn't he be ready to die now? It wasn't enough just to survive. A person had to _live_. And he wouldn't, he couldn't, live here.

So when he saw Herma'Taklan aim his rifle for Selene, when he heard Herma'Taklan say _I'm going to kill them_, he didn't do what he did for Alex's sake, he didn't do it to save Selene, he didn't do it for any heroic reason whatsoever. He did it for himself. He did it because he had accepted the sheer, overwhelming futility of it all.

He pushed Selene and Alex aside and stepped in front of the shot.

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. Not badly, anyway. As he spun off the edge of the deck and into the air, plummeting towards the city below, he heard Alex scream his name and he smiled as he felt himself die, his entire body tingling as it shut down.

But he knew death. He had felt it when he had fallen through the Guardian of Forever.

And this...

This wasn't it.

It was a transporter.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
**

Happy anniversary! Today is exactly ONE YEAR since I started posting! Today, the entire cast is having a little party at the local pub. Even Kordath and Rakiin are getting along ('course, Rakiin's having a problem drinking with only one hand)


	21. To Fly on Waxen Wings, Ch 5

**To Fly on Waxen Wings, Chapter Five:  
**

"_Let's get the Hell out of here."_  
-Capt. James T. Kirk, _"The City on the Edge of Forever"_

-----

Tal had never read Greek mythology, so he didn't know the story of _Icarus'_ namesake. The Skipper had told him the name and that was that. How she got the name, he didn't particularly care. _Icarus_ was his baby, she was his girl, and that was all he cared about. So he had no clue just how appropriate it was that right now, _Icarus_ was plummeting towards the Earth's surface, wisps of flame trailing off her overheated hull.

Gravity was like an iron fist, grinding Tal back into his chair, the restraints digging into his chest as he struggled to reach forward and hit the restart key on his console. Nyssa's voice was a shrill screeching in his ear, curses and epithets flying from her lips in several languages. The key was just inches away now, mere inches...

A final burst of strength and he hit it, blacking out for a quick second as gravity hit him again, yanking him backwards as if he were on strings. Around the bridge, computer screens suddenly blinked back to life, lines of code streaming across them sluggishly as _Icarus_'s main computer rebooted. Watching the text flashing by in front of him, and seeing the Pacific ocean rushing up towards them, he started to panic. "Come on come on come on..."

They were maybe ten or twelve thousand feet above the greenish-blue waters when the computers blacked out for a second, then came back on, along with all the lights, the sensors, the artificial gravity...

And the engines.

As soon as Earth's gravity was replaced by _Icarus_' own, Tal reached forward and grabbed the control yoke, listening to Nyssa's continuous stream of muttered curses behind him. They were still falling, and a quick glance at the sensor panel showed that the _Kindjal_s were flying straight down in pursuit. Tal had maybe five seconds to make a decision about what to do. Keep falling and take his chances with the ocean, or start flying and take his chances with the _Kindjal_s overhead.

Decision made, Tal pitched the ship forward and began firing thrusters, slowing their descent, but not stopping it. Of course, a slight reduction in speed when you were traveling at terminal velocity wasn't much.

"_What the Hell are you doing!_" Nyssa shrieked as she watched him aim the ship directly for the waters below. Confident that the ship had slowed down enough, Tal started firing the thrusters randomly, sending _Icarus_ into a tailspin. Adjusting her minimal energy shields to focus everything on her belly, Tal bit his lip. Not much left to do now but sit and watch.

_Icarus_ hit the ocean, creating an enormous wave as she sank beneath the surface, water boiling around her as it came into contact with her still red-hot hull plates. Tal was ripped from his chair and sent flying into the bridge windows, Nyssa crashing into Tal's chair and bouncing up the wall before gravity stabilized. Tal hit the deck hard, and he swore that he could hear every bone in his body go crack as he came to rest. Looking out the windows, he watched the water become steadily darker as they fell deeper into the Pacific. Moving up to Kordath's tactical panel, he punched the fire button.

A torpedo streaked out of _Icarus_'s hidden torpedo bay, cutting through the water before detonating a little less than a kilometer away. _Icarus_ caught the tail end of the shock wave and bucked, knocking Tal and Nyssa back off their feet and into the back wall of the bridge. Side by side, they sat there in the flickering light given off by overloaded panels and watched the sensor readings in complete silence.

On the surface, an enormous geyser burst towards the sky, forcing the _Kindjal_s to desperately evade. Circling the spot for a long minute, they satisfied themselves that the cargo ship had been destroyed in the crash and turned away, headed back towards the _Gilgamesh_.

Another few minutes passed before either Tal or Nyssa moved, minutes that passed in tense silence. Tal swallowed with a suddenly very dry throat and turned to look at Nyssa, "I really don't think that what you called my mother was fair."

Nyssa glared at him through disheveled black hair, then started slapping him with both hands, forcing Tal to raise both of his arms to defend himself as _Icarus_ continued to sink.

-----

Kordath leaned against a bulkhead, wincing as he examined the wound that bisected his chest. It was deep, a clean cut. Only his Klingon physiology with it's redundant organs was keeping him moving. If he been Human, he would have been dead already.

His failure, though, pained him more than the wound. Rakiin had been correct. He had gotten old, and he had become decrepit. Five years ago, he _would_ have won that battle. Five years ago, Rakiin would have been the one clutching the chest wound. The fact that he had maimed his former student, and that Rakiin had not escaped the battle unscathed, pleased him not in the least. The Khanate was not dead. Injured, yes. Dead? No.

In his mind, he could see his Father and Mother, their voices silent as they served on the Barge of the Dead, steadily approaching the tall bone gates of _gre'thor_, the Underworld. The burning seas of blood teemed with life, demons hissing and waiting to devour the souls of the dishonoured dead. They had died in their sleep, murdered by the poison burning in their veins. Kordath had failed to protect them, failed to kill them honourably when they had become too ill to die in battle. He had not been there, and that failure haunted him to this day.

Until their murderers were dead, his parents could not enter the Great Halls of _Sto'vo'kor_, there to join the rest of his ancestors in glorious eternal battle. Until their murderers died, they would be condemned to eternal dishonour, forced to serve, weaponless, on the Barge.

A Jem'Hadar charged him, it's pale face twisted with hatred, a pike aimed for his heart. With a savage blow, Kordath broke the pike in half, snapping off it's blade and driving it into the Jem'Hadar's chest. Picking up the dead creature, Kordath flung it into the next, breaking the stride of the attack. Drawing the blade on the Jem'Hadar's side, he killed it with it's own weapon, smiling savagely as he gifted it with a wound similar to his own. White blood mixed with the garnet of his own, collecting in puddles on the floor. Kordath was a trained warrior, and he paid the treacherous deck no mind. He had fought on battlefields where he had waded through the blood of his enemies, their bodies catching on his armour and trying to drag him down in retribution for their deaths. He had not fallen on that day, and he would not fall on this one. Today may be a good day to die, but it was a _glorious_ day to live.

His hearts began to beat faster, pumping more blood through his veins, feeding adrenaline to every corner of his being. His breath quickened and his eyes grew wild, a smile on his features as he roared to the heavens and charged the dozens of Jem'Hadar that were trying to kill him. He may have become old, but _this_ was who he was. _This _was what he was meant to be. A Warrior, alive in battle, sending his enemies to meet their ancestors, his blade determining who lived and who died. Nothing, not even age, would change that. Nothing could stop him.

Honour would be satisfied one day. One day, his parents' murderers would be brought to heel, his mother's and father's souls set free with a single stroke of his _bat'leth_. He had failed to kill Rakiin today, but he would not fail again. Rakiin had lost his hand, and if Kordath had to, he would kill him one piece at a time.

But right now, he would find Selene and the other prisoners. No sense weeping over spilled blood wine. Kill the cur who had spilled it and get another.

Kordath laughed with pure joy as he met the next charge, his _bat'leth_ falling like the hammer of the very Gods as he fought his way to the forward _Kindjal_ bay, his own blood dripping on the floor, but masked by the blood of the Jem'Hadar...

Which _flowed_.

-----

Rakiin knelt on the floor of the Observation chamber, his right arm pressed to his chest as blood spilled from the stumped wrist with every beat of his heart. Nerve endings burned, sending pain signals to his brain, and he swore that he could still _feel_ the hand, even though it lay beside him. He could still bend the fingers, could still feel the glove that covered it. The agony was unimaginable.

As his Personal Guard gathered around him, he desperately tried to disconnect the pain, to turn away from it, leave the arm numb, but he couldn't. His training fled from his mind like rats from a sinking ship, deserting him and leaving him alone to face the pain. Blood soaked the front of his tunic, darkening the fabrics. He was having trouble thinking, but he heard one of the Jem'Hadar speaking to someone, explaining what had happened. Distantly, he thought that he could hear a weapon fire, thought that he could smell something burning.

"Rakiin."

Pain fled before an indignant fury that quickly turned to fear. Who _dared_ to call him by name? Was this a coup? Had his own personal guard turned against him? Was he about to be assassinated?

The blow came as a complete shock, an open hand striking him across the face and jarring his mind. His eyes started to focus on the golden glow before him, the glow that began to fade into a familiar form. "Aishwarya."

His sister knelt before him, her dark eyes level with his own. Strangely, he felt the fear gnawing away at him grow stronger at his sister's face, rather than lessening. Glancing down at his severed hand, she spoke casually, her voice filled with a mild interest. "What have you done, my Brother?"

Had she turned his guards against him? Had she planned this? Was she going to kill him? Kill him in vengeance for Father? "If you are going to kill me, Aishwarya, be done with it."

Her eyes returned to his, amusement sparkling in their depths. "_If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly."_ Rising to her feet, she looked down on his maimed form. He was sure that she was enjoying this. Soon, she would be rid of him. _Let her try_, he thought. Even in death, he would be a greater leader than she could ever aspire to be. Someday, her secrets would be revealed and who would follow her then? No one. She would be put to death, and his spirit would laugh as she burned.

His eyes were fierce as he watched her lift the Jem'Hadar blade and hold it before him. If she were hoping that he would scream, she would be disappointed. "Do it, Sister. If you have the courage."

Examining the blade, Aishwarya smiled thinly. "This is going to hurt." And she brought the knife down, it's blade pointed at his chest. Rakiin braced himself.

And the flat of the blade came to rest on his bleeding wrist.

Rakiin howled as the heated blade burned the lacerated tissue, melting and cauterizing the veins in his severed wrist. Pain didn't describe the sensation of every nerve overloading and flooding his brain with confused signals. Agony came close. This was a taste of death itself.

As suddenly as it had started, it was gone, his mind washing away the pain. The stump still burned, but it no longer bled. Aishwarya threw the Jem'Hadar knife away as she turned and left the room. "For giving me my life, my Brother. For giving me my life."

Rakiin heard her, but found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from his hand, lying beside him, still clutching his sword.

-----

Alex hit the cold deck plates of the _Kindjal _bay hard, instinctively reaching out to grab Selene's hand when he saw how treacherously close the thousand foot drop loomed. Catching her hand with his own, he rolled towards the inside of the ship, nearer to safety. Safety, of course, being a relative term. In front of him lay a thousand foot fall towards the burning ruins below. Behind him stood a maddened Jem'Hadar with a plasma rifle.

The Devil you Know.

The wind was rushing by his ears as he pulled her towards him, making it next to impossible to hear anything softer than a shout. But still, as he turned his attention to Herma'Taklan, he heard it.

The soft catching of Jason's breath.

Reality seemed to slow down as he turned away from the Jem'Hadar, his mind coldly knowing what his heart refused to believe. Pulling himself to his knees, he saw Jason standing there, framed by the wide open mouth of the _Kindjal _bay, towering above him. For an instant, Alex saw Jason as he had been on the day they had met, seven years old, nothing more than a silhouette standing in front of the sun, defending Alex from a bully. Now, twenty-nine years later, their eyes met, and Alex saw the man who was closer to him than any friend, than any brother, smile serenely as he fell backwards off the platform with a gaping hole in his chest.

Shock and disbelief filled Alex as Jason tumbled backwards and out of sight, falling into the ether. In one, horrific second, Jason Madden was gone, vanished from Alex's world as though he had never even existed in the first place. They had been the last. The only survivors of an entire Universe. Whether they had been spared by fate, by providence, or by luck, somewhere deep down, Alex had known that nothing could defeat them if they were together. He and Jason had been friends for so long that the prospect of Jason not being there was unfathomable.

Jason couldn't possibly be gone. Jason wouldn't leave him alone.

Would he?

-----

Selene would never forget the look on Alex's face as Madden pushed them aside and stepped in front of the shot meant for her. It wasn't despair or pain as she might have believed. It was confusion, the look that a child had on it's face when it was told about death for the first time. It was the complete and utter inability to _understand_ what 'gone' meant. And it broke her heart to see it.

She had long ago lost any illusions that she had about death, had them ripped from her when her father had died. As she had grown older, she had lost friends to the war. She had watched, grief-stricken, as their eyes had dimmed for the last times, had held them as they breathed their last gasping breaths. It always hurt, God, did it hurt, and it never got easier.

It always got harder.

Alex seemed to crumble before her eyes, his eyes fixed in shock on the spot where Madden had stood not a second earlier. She knelt beside him, unsure of what to do or what to say. It was a moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, a terrible, frozen tableau of pain and loss.

It was a moment that came to a crashing end.

Spinning around, Selene ran towards Herma'Taklan, her rifle spewing deadly bolts of plasma as she forced the scarred warrior to duck behind one of the _Kindjals_. Enraged, she continued to discharge the weapon into the small fighter's hull, intent on burning through it and killing the Jem'Hadar that had just killed Madden.

Still, Alex sat, his eyes fixed in shock on the city below.

Herma'Taklan leapt out from his hiding place, dodging Selene's fire, and knocked the rifle from her hands. The stolen weapon skittered across the floor, out of her reach as Herma'Taklan lifted her by her jacket and started to drag her back towards the bay doors.

To join Madden.

Selene kicked and screamed, clawing at the Jem'Hadar's iron grip as he carted her towards her death. Nothing could break the hold on her collar. Desperate, she screamed at the top of her lungs, praying that someone could hear her.

"Help me!"

Two things happened then.

The doors leading into the ship exploded, tiny fragments of superheated shrapnel spinning away from the detonation, momentarily drowning out the wind.

Herma'Taklan didn't stop.

A blue flash filled the room, followed by the smell of burning metal as the deck at the Jem'Hadar's feet turned into a boiling liquid.

Herma'Taklan stopped.

Selene struggled, turning her head just far enough to see what was happening.

Alex stood in front of the bay doors, her missing rifle in his hands and death in his eyes.

-----

Tal watched with a sense of fascination as a school of fish swam past the bridge windows, noting with a careful analytical eye the sleek forms that evolution had granted them, the multitude of reflective scales that danced across their tiny orange bodies. It was incredible, a thing of true beauty hidden by the depths of Earth's Pacific Ocean.

In reality, Tal was incredibly bored and barely even noticed the fish.

"Are you talking to me, yet?"

Determined silence filled the bridge, a silence punctuated only by Nyssa's pointed tapping at her console behind him. Sighing, Tal tried a different tack. "Look, you can give me the silent treatment all you like. I still say that we're at least _alive_, if you hadn't noticed. Would you rather be docked in the _Gilgamesh_'s loading bay right now? If that was how you wanted to go about saving the Skipper and Kordath, I humbly apologize, Oh-Great-Lady-of-the-Pointy-Ears, for saving our necks." When he was met with nothing more than silence, Tal decided to give up and focused on his console.

"You don't have to be so sarcastic."

"Oh, we're talking now. How nice."

Nyssa stepped up beside his chair as he continued running his pre-flight check. "I'm still not happy with you. You should have told me what you were doing."

Tal frowned and blew a loose string of blond hair out from in front of his eyes. "Yeah, I suppose. Sorry. Ow!" Tal shrieked as Nyssa batted him in the arm. "What was that for?"

"You really have to ask?" Nyssa smiled and sat back in her chair. "Now let's go pick everybody up."

As _Icarus_ burst from the surface of the water, Tal frowned as he saw the dark shape of the _Gilgamesh_ in front of him, hovering over the bay city, coming ever closer as _Icarus _picked up speed.

Ready or not, here we come.

-----

It was dark where Alex Carver was now.

Not outside, even though the _Kindjal_ bay was lit only by the dim emergency lights. No, where Alex Carver was right now was much darker than that.

He was dark inside.

His wife was dead. Jason was dead. Everyone, everything, that he had ever known was dead. He didn't know why. He didn't know how. All he knew was that he had just watched the only other survivor of an entire _Universe_ die in front of his eyes, and this Jem'Hadar, this _thing_, had committed the murder.

He could feel the cool weight of the rifle in his hands, the comforting hum of it's power cells building up. He had only killed once before in his entire life, the Jem'Hadar on the streets of San Francisco a few days ago. But that, that had been defence. Jason's defence.

This would be murder.

This would make him no different from the Jem'Hadar.

He pulled the trigger.

Herma'Taklan flew backwards, trapped in the eye of a sapphire hurricane, releasing Selene's collar as the plasma bolt overloaded every single nerve in his body. The Jem'Hadar's body hit the hard deckplates with a crunch, inertia sliding him along the metal for a few meters before coming to rest at the base of one of the _Kindjals_.

Selene gaped, rising to her feet in shock at what he had just done. As she moved to his side, he felt her take the rifle out of his hands.

It was set on stun.

As their eyes met, he nodded, his voice filled with a kind of wonder as he spoke.

"I'm... I'm not a murderer."

Her lips turned upward in a small smile as she nodded. Smiling back, he turned towards the Jem'Hadar pilling into the bay from the jagged hole where the door had once been. Without tearing his eyes away from the dozens of Jem'Hadar, Alex picked up his own stolen rifle as Selene took aim with hers. Back to back, they prepared to face down the horde.

"But I will defend myself."

Jason had given his life for theirs, and Alex would make sure that his best friend had not died in vain.

-----

Another Jem'Hadar charged Kordath.

Another Jem'Hadar died.

The Klingon had long since lost count how many enemies he had sent to their ancestors this day, but their ivory blood coated his _bat'leth_, making the blade's hilt slippery. He spun and stabbed, each stroke adding to the army of corpses at his feet. He could see the doors to the _Kindjal_ bay, not thirty feet away. He could hear the energy discharges within, the screaming, the yelling.

He could hear Selene's voice, and he could hear another voice. A Human voice. One of the other prisoners?

But he could also feel his chest wound beginning to take it's toll. The adrenaline was beginning to run thin, his muscles were beginning to ache. The _bat'leth_ was growing heavier in his hands. This was inexcusable. He was better than this.

He was better than this! He would not die here!

As his _bat'leth_ locked against a Jem'Hadar pike, his communicator crackled to life.

"_Kordath! We're coming in!"_

Tal... Nyssa...

Smiling savagely, Kordath broke the lock, snapping his enemy's pike in the process and charged, breaking through the thirty feet to the _Kindjal_ bay, his enormous form trampling enemies left and right.

-----

_Icarus_ tore through the crumbling buildings of San Francisco, her explosive wake shattering what little glass remained in the ancient skyscrapers. She hugged the ground, staying as low as possible to avoid detection until she reached the black underbelly of the _Gilgamesh._

Then she climbed, responding to the gentle touch of her pilot as she flipped over so that she was flying upside-down, embracing the hull of the Khanate cruiser as she had the ground a second earlier. She was cloaked in the larger ship's shadow, racing for a point at the very tip of the ship's prow, her engines howling in the atmosphere as she heard Tal's whispered wish for speed and did everything that she could to comply.

For at her destination, Selene waited, and _Icarus_ wanted her Skipper back as badly as any of her crew.

-----

They had begun by coming one or two at a time, pikes flashing in the emergency lights of the _Kindjal_ bay, each Jem'Hadar Warrior focused on the death of Selene Weller and the capture of Alexander Carver.

Then, they had begun to charge in small groups, climbing over the corpses of their fellows.

Now...

The Jem'Hadar charged them, wielding their pikes, but not their energy weapons. Why? Selene quickly glanced over her shoulder and found the answer to that question. Alex. They wanted Alex alive. What was it the scarred Jem'Hadar had said?

_I'm not going to kill you, Carver. I'm going to kill them._

Them. Her and Madden. Not Alex. They needed him alive for some reason. Technology? The secrets of his Universe? Something to do with the fight between him and the Changeling? It didn't matter right now, but it was an edge.

She jumped slightly as Alex clamped a hand down on her shoulder and yanked her around, his rifle disgorging blue flame where her head had been a second earlier. Not to be outdone, she fell to one knee and fired past his hip, covering him even as he tried to cover her. Neither of them led, neither of them spoke to the other, but they both knew instinctively how to respond to the other's movements. She saw the flaws in his steps, his rushed aim, his utter lack of experience at holding a weapon, and she adjusted for it. But when faced with a wall of enemies, aim and quality were less important than speed and quantity.

But even speed and quantity wouldn't hold out forever.

One of the Jem'Hadar got through the field of plasma fire, it's pike knocking Alex's rifle from his hands and sending it falling off the edge of the deck to the ground below. Selene spun around to cover but saw that she would be too late, the Jem'Hadar already had one hand around Alex's throat and the other was aiming the pike straight for her chest.

A whistling sound sounded in her ears and she frowned, confused, as the Jem'Hadar stopped mid-strike. It stood still for a second, then fell over, a _bat'leth_ embedded deep in it's back.

Kordath broke free from the mob, his long grey hair matted in blood, both Jem'Hadar and his own. With a savage backhand, he sent two of the warriors flying away into their companions, stalling their advance long enough to join Selene and Alex. Towering over them, the Klingon pulled his blade out of the dead Jem'Hadar's back.

"Kordath?"

The Klingon nodded and smiled slightly, reaching down to help Selene to her feet. "I promised that we would return. And so we have."

Suddenly, Selene noticed that the Jem'Hadar had come to a stop, something holding them back at the other side of the bay. As she and Alex turned around, she smiled, already knowing what she would see behind her.

_Icarus_ hovered at the front of the _Kindjal_ bay, her sole phase cannon aimed straight at the Jem'Hadar. Her smile quickly turned into a laugh as she saw Tal and Nyssa at the bridge windows, waving like maniacs.

-----

Deep inside the _Gilgamesh_'s main computer, secondary systems began to stir, the codes and software that Alex had destroyed slowly healing themselves. Main power was the first system to return to the enormous ship, but it would not be the last.

Weapons and engines would soon follow.


	22. To Fly on Waxen Wings, Ch 6

**To Fly on Waxen Wings, Chapter Six:  
**

"_Oh, I may be a Captain by rank, but... I never wanted to be anything else but an engineer."_  
-Capt. Montgomery Scott, _"Relics"_

**_This chapter is dedicated to the memory of James Doohan, _Star Trek_'s fist miracle worker. Thanks, Jimmy, for all of the close saves._**

-----

The command deck was a study in organized chaos, Khanate crew members scurrying from station to station like Lilliputians trying to reawaken the slumbering Gulliver. They had made progress, reactivating main power, but the computer virus Alexander Carver had implanted in the ship's mainframe was centuries beyond their current level of computer science. It would take time to isolate the virus and repair all of the damage that Carver had done.

Rakiin sat in his command throne at the top of the bridge, glaring out the three level window while a medical officer probed the cauterized stump of his right arm. From this vantage point, he could see the tiny cargo ship holding position before his cruiser's prow, hating the feeling of vulnerability that filled him. At this moment, that small, insignificant Starfleet vessel had enough power in it's ancient phase cannon to destroy his ship, and it had a straight shot down the _Gilgamesh_'s gullet.

His teeth clenched as one of the surgeon's probes made contact with an extremely sensitive patch of skin, the pain like a burning needle shooting up and down his arm. Without conscious thought, his arm straightened, striking the surgeon across the face. As the Khanate doctor reclaimed his feet, Rakiin stepped from his throne, throwing his cloak over his arm, hiding the garish wound from sight. Kordath, the architect of his pain, was on that ship. That small, insignificant, annoying gnat of a cargo ship, it's hull as fragile as an eggshell. Turning his infuriated glare from the window to a technician, he growled, "Time to weapons."

The technician shrunk from Rakiin in near-terror. That had not been a question. It had been a threat. Glancing down at his palm computer, he replied in a terrified voice. "Thirty-two minutes, My Lord."

The fire in his eyes intensifying, Rakiin's left hand snaked out and grasped the technician by the collar. "I want that ship destroyed."

"We are doing our best, My Lord."

"Then your best is not good enough!" Rakiin howled as he pushed the technician off the third tier and down into the crew pit of the second. The crunch the smaller man made as he struck resounded through the bridge, drawing eyes from every corner.

"I want that ship destroyed! Use handheld rifles if you must! I want them DEAD!"

Every Jem'Hadar on the bridge bowed and ran from the room, leaving the technicians to find a way to bring the engines and weapons back on line sooner, rather than later.

-----

Tal frowned as he watched the sensor readings. He had chosen the moment of approach very carefully, waiting until the two _Kindjals_ that hadn't been trapped on the inside of the _Gilgamesh_ had been on the far side of the city, far enough away so that he would have a couple of minutes before they could intersect him.

'A couple of minutes' was beginning to run out.

Flicking on _Icarus_' loudspeakers, he spoke into the radio. "Skipper, we're about to have company." Outside, Selene nodded and waved, telling him to turn the ship around so that they could reach the starboard airlock. Tugging at the control yoke, he slowly turned _Icarus_ to port, sliding the starboard side of the saucer against the _Kindjal_ bay. Beside him, Nyssa sat at Kordath's panel, keeping the room full of Jem'Hadar behind the Skipper in the crosshairs of the phase cannon's targeting array.

Together, they watched as the Skipper, Kordath and the red and black dressed Human stepped off the edge of the platform into the airlock. On his screen, the Skipper looked up at the camera as Kordath shut the hatch behind them. "Tal, get us out of here!"

A huge smile on his face, Tal nodded, even though he knew she couldn't see him. All of a sudden, the air of doom that had hung over _Icarus_ for the past week since they had left the Skipper behind evaporated. The ship felt alive again. She felt happy again. "Yes, ma'am."

Nyssa stood from the tactical console, heading for the hatch leading down into the ship. "I'm going to go check on them. They're probably hurt."

"You do that." Tal grinned as he shot the Jem'Hadar outside a jaunty salute, watching them run for the edge of the _Kindjal _bay, already raising their weapons. Plasma bursts bounced off of _Icarus_' hull as Tal guided the ship away from the _Gilgamesh_ and back out over the ocean, and not even the sight of two _Kindjals_ approaching could wipe the smile from his face.

Of course, the sight of the _Gilgamesh_ beginning to turn and pursue was enough to make him forget that the grin had been there in the first place. Flipping on the shipwide comm, he gulped. "Uh... Skipper? Nice to have you back and all, but... uh... we've got a problem."

-----

Alex watched as the giant Klingon closed the airlock hatch, shutting away the view of the Jem'Hadar they had left standing on the other side. As the room sealed, Alex felt something change inside. It was as though he had left more than the Jem'Hadar and the _Gilgamesh_ behind that door. Everything he had ever been, his entire life, had been left behind on that hangar deck, sealed away on the other side of that hatch. Jason. His own Selene. The Federation he knew. Starfleet. Lieutenant Alexander Carver, Engineer on the Federation bioship _Albion_, was dead and gone, killed with the same shot that had killed Jason Madden. Now, Alex Carver, refugee, stepped through into the cargo ship, holding in his hand a small piece of metal, the buckle off of his belt.

The Starfleet arrowhead, symbol of Starfleet service since the days of James Kirk and the _Enterprise_.

He had no idea who he was anymore. Without realizing it himself, he had built his entire life around Selene, Jason and Starfleet. Without them, he was cast adrift, rudderless, unable to do anything to guide his life, capable only of reacting to the events around him.

Staring at the arrowhead, he realized that all he had left of his old life was what this piece of metal represented and the golden locket around his neck. Not even the uniform he wore, torn and dirty though it was, was his own. Again, the question rose in his mind:

_Who is Alex Carver?_

A Romulan woman came running down the corridor, her black pants and green shirt streaked with dirt as she rushed Selene, giving her a quick look before scooping her up into a hug. Selene laughed as she hugged the woman back. "Nyssa! Careful of the ribs! Careful of the ribs!"

The Romulan... Nyssa... backed away sheepishly, but with a sudden look of worry. "What's wrong with your ribs? Where's the pain?"

Selene chuckled as she clapped Nyssa on the shoulder, giving the woman another, much more careful, embrace. "Nothing. You just keep forgetting Humans aren't as strong as Romulans." Looking back over her shoulder, she nodded towards Alex. "Nyssa, this is Alex Carver. He saved me down there."

Nyssa gave Alex a quick once over, her eyebrow quirking as she looked at him. "You must be one of the other prisoners Kordath told us about. The Starfleet guys from the other reality."

Selene jumped at Nyssa's comment. Looking at Kordath, she arched an eyebrow. "How did you know about that?"

The Klingon returned her frown silently, looking away down the corridor. Selene's lips pursed, and she looked as though she had bit into something sour. "Oh." Sighing, she hung her head. "I should've known that."

Nyssa cleared her throat. "I thought that there were _two_ other prisoners."

Silence filled the corridor as Alex drew a shaky breath. Selene glared at Nyssa, who looked around with a look that said "What?" on her face. Just as Selene was about to answer Nyssa's question, Alex spoke. "He didn't make it."

Nyssa's face fell in an ashamed look at the total lack of inflection in Alex's voice, and everything that it meant. "Oh. Sorry." Looking at Kordath, the Romulan's eyes grew wide as they traced the wound that cut across his broad chest. "What in the... What happened to you?"

The Klingon's answer was short. "War."

Grabbing the Klingon's hand, Nyssa started to pull him away from the bulkhead. "Come on. We've got to take care of that." Kordath pulled back. "I will live."

The Romulan placed her fists on her hips and glared. "Not with a wound like that, you won't."

"I have survived worse."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Probably head trauma."

A short, sharp whistle broke up the argument. Alex, Nyssa and Kordath all turned to look at Selene, who stood with two fingers between her lips. Lowering her hand, she looked at the Romulan and the Klingon. "Will you two stop arguing? We're not home yet, if you haven't forgotten." Shaking her head, she looked at Kordath. "Go to sickbay. You won't be much use if you bleed to death."

The Klingon drew himself to his full height, dwarfing Selene by at least a foot and a half. "I do not require medical attention."

Glaring up at Kordath, Selene refused to back down. They stared at each other for a long moment before Kordath grunted and stepped back, placing a giant hand on her shoulder. "It is good to have you back, Selene."

Patting the Klingon's hand, she smiled. "It's good to be home, Kordath. Thank you. Now get going." As the Klingon and the Romulan disappeared down the corridor, Selene started to chuckle then turned to look at Alex. "Welcome aboard the _Icarus_."

Alex was trying to think of an answer to that when the comm crackled, filling the corridor with a young man's voice. _"Uh... Skipper? Nice to have you back and all, but... uh... we've got a problem."_

Alex watched as Selene stepped over to the bulkhead and pressed a button. "What is it, Tal?"

_"The _Gilgamesh_ is following us."_

Alex and Selene shared a look, fear in their eyes. If the _Gilgamesh_'s crew had already repaired their engine and navigation software, then that meant that their weapons would be on-line soon enough. Selene turned and bolted for the bridge, Alex close behind her.

-----

The glistening black hull of the _Gilgamesh_ melded nearly perfectly with the black of space, the dim glow of the windows glowing like tiny stars, the blue of her warp nacelles burning like twin supernovas in the darkness. Slowly, majestically, she rose from Earth's atmosphere, shaking off the bonds of gravity as she took flight after the small form of the _Icarus_.

On the bridge of the cargo ship, Alex, Selene and Tal watched with mounting horror as the Khanate cruiser began to gain on them, the two small _Kindjals_ flying escort for the mothership invisible to the naked eye. The only way to track the fighters was on the sensors, or by seeing where the weapons fire was coming from.

Tal jumped as he dodged another phaser beam. "Okay, so the _Gilgamesh_ herself still can't fire at us. That's something, right?"

Selene shook her head. "Something that big doesn't need to shoot us down. All they really have to do is get close enough and ram us. We'd barely scratch their paint."

"Bug on the windshield, huh?"

Looking down at her pilot, Selene smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "That's right." Turning to look at Alex, she shrugged. "Any ideas, Miracle-Boy?"

Stepping up to the sensor readouts, Alex sighed. They'd rerouted their main power faster than he had expected. The damage he had done to their systems should have taken longer to repair than it had. He'd underestimated them. He'd figured that he was so far ahead of their computer technology that they wouldn't be able to keep up with him. He'd gotten cocky. Augments... Khanate... were advanced intellectually as well. Anything he could think up, they could, too. He'd been too elitist. "I don't know, Selene. I just don't know."

"Alright, then. Tal. Get us out of the system."

The Bajoran shook his head. "We'll never make it. They're faster than we are. We can't run."

The pilot's words struck a thought in Alex's mind. _Speed..._ "What class of ship is this?"

Selene did a double-take at the apparent non-sequitor, looking at Alex as if he had snapped. "Uh... Her design's based on one of the early twenty-second century warp ships, the _Intrepid_. There's a couple of small differences. Larger secondary hull, our nacelles are set further back from the saucer, things like that."

"What about warp capacity?"

"Standard warp drive. Good up to 9.2. We have a transwarp coil, but we don't have enough power to get it started."

Alex frowned slightly as he pulled up everything his nanites could retrieve on the _Intrepid_ class. Early design warp sled test vehicle. Hull composition was good and sturdy. And if they had a transwarp coil assembly... "It could work."

Tal looked up from his console. "What could work?"

Leaning over Tal's shoulder, Alex pointed to his course display. "Stay with me here. What's the first rule about warp travel?"

"When faster than light, no left or right. Everyone knows that."

"What about when you drop out of warp?"

Tal paused and thought. "Inertia. It keeps you moving even at sublight. When you drop out of warp, you have to be careful not to overshoot... your... goal..." The Bajoran started to smile. "I think I see where you're going with this. Oh, Skipper, I like this guy. Can we keep him? I mean, he followed you home and all."

Looking between Alex and Tal, Selene shrugged, lost. "Assuming we live. What are you two talking about?"

Turning to look at her, Alex held up his hands. "Okay, follow me. The _Gilgamesh_ can fly faster than us, right?" Selene nodded. "Alright. We make a small warp jump, no more than two or three minutes. They follow, trying to gain. When they're at, say, three hundred thousand kilometers away, we drop out of warp. We're small, so inertia won't keep us going far."

Tal spoke up from the helm. "It'll take them a handful of seconds to realize we've dropped out of warp, then another couple of seconds to go down to impulse themselves. They're huge, inertia will keep them moving for a few hundred thousand kilometers, maybe more, before they stop and turn around to come back for us. So including the seven or eight seconds they were in warp, they'll have overshot us by, what? A few million kilometers?"

Alex nodded. "At that point, when they're completely turned around, we hit the warp drive again. We'll have about ten or twelve million kilometers head start on them by the time they turn around _again._"

Selene shook her head. "Good plan, but even with that head start, the _Gilgamesh_ will be able to outpace us before we get out of the system."

"That's why we _don't_ head out of the system. We head _in_, towards the sun."

Selene and Tal gaped. "Are you crazy? There's nowhere to go that way!"

Alex shook his head. "You told me that the war with the Khanate happened during the mid-to-late twenty-fifth century. That means that there should be a Transwarp hub in orbit of the star."

Selene stared out the bridge windows, crossing her arms across her chest. "Yeah, there's a hub, but no one's used it since the war. It's been shut down and locked out, just like the mainframe back on Earth."

"I can get it running again. If this ship was designed with a transwarp coil, she's built to hold up to transwarp speeds."

Selene looked back at the sensors, and the quickly growing image of the _Gilgamesh_. "You're certain you can get it running again?"

"I can do it."

Selene stood still for a long moment, considering her options. "Tal."

"Yeah, Skipper?"

"Set course for the star."

Tal cracked his knuckles like a concert pianist and grinned wildly. "Yes, ma'am." Reaching for the warp initiator, he slid it back, turning the stars to warplines.

-----

Aishwarya stood on the bridge of the _Gilgamesh_ next to her brother, watching the pursuit of the tiny cargo ship. At the moment, the _Icarus_ was over seventy thousand kilometers away, invisible to the naked eye, but even at this distance she could see the tiny starburst that signified that they had made the jump to warp.

Beside her, Rakiin fumed, his maimed arm hidden beneath the folds of his cloak. As he watched his quarry run, he screamed at one of the ship's helmsmen. "Follow them!"

"Yes, My lord!"

_Gilgamesh_ leapt into warp space, a lion chasing a gazelle. Turning away from the bridge crew, her hands held demurely behind her back, Aishwarya pitched her voice low enough that only Rakiin could hear. "Are you going to kill them, Brother?"

A snarl on his lips, Rakiin faced her. "Blood calls for blood, Aishwarya." Lifting the stump of his arm for her to see, he shook it before her eyes. "They did this to me and I will see them burn for it."

Running a single index finger across her lips, Aishwarya considered. "What of Carver's knowledge? I thought you wanted that."

"I have enough."

"How do you know that, Rakiin? The Changeling has yet to regain consciousness. Perhaps it gained nothing in Carver's interrogation."

Rakiin glared. "The issue has been dealt with, Aishwarya. Let it lie. I no longer need Carver. Let him burn with the rest. "

Aishwarya bowed slightly and returned her own attention to the pursuit. "As you wish."

-----

"What's our speed?"

Selene's voice was tight as she stared out the windows at the streaking lines of warpspace, her heart pounding in her chest. She could almost feel the _Gilgamesh_ gaining on them. Tal glanced at his readouts. "Holding at 8.9"

"Distance?"

"Three hundred and fifty thousand kilometers."

Selene glanced over her shoulder at Alex, watching him as he worked at the sensor station. His face was deep in concentration, his eyes glazed over in what she had come to know as his "Nanite-mode". He was interfacing with _Icarus._

Tal spoke up. "Three hundred thousand kilometers! Dropping out of warp!"

_Icarus _shuddered as she slowed from warp 8.9 to sublight speeds, inertia dragging her forward another thirty four thousand kilometers before she came to a full stop. Behind her, the giant Khanate cruiser overshot them completely.

-----

"Starfleet vessel has dropped out of warp! Adjusting course to compensate!"

Without missing a beat, the_ Gilgamesh_ dropped out of warp and spun around at full impulse before returning to warp speeds, a hunter turning back on it's prey.

It cost them a full eight seconds.

-----

Alex's head snapped up from the sensor console, breaking his link to the _Icarus_' computers. "They've gone back to warp! Go!"

Tal reached forward and grasped the warp initiator, bringing the ship up to warp 9.1 as the _Gilgamesh_ came closer. As the two ships passed each other, _Icarus_ shook as the larger ship's warp bubble stressed her own, bending it out of shape.

_Icarus_ dropped to warp 8.7.

-----

A shout of confusion rose up from the depths of _Gilgamesh_'s bridge, navigators desperately trying to maintain a course for the Starfleet vessel as it leapt back into warp. At the top of the third tier, Rakiin glared at his crew, cursing as his ship was forced to stop and turn around again.

Beside him, Aishwarya's face remained impassive.

The Khanate Lord's face twisted with fury as he fixed a navigator with a furious gaze. "Where are they going?"

The navigator glanced back at his console before responding. "They appear to have set a course for the star, My Lord."

"How long before they reach the star, then?"

"Nine minutes, but their warp field appears to be unstable, My Lord. At their reduced speed, we should intercept in eight minutes, twelve seconds."

Turning away from the navigator in disgust, Rakiin faced Aishwarya. "Why would they be going towards the star, Sister? What could possibly be of use to them there?"

Aishwarya pondered the situation for a moment, even though she already knew the answer. "The Transwarp hub, Brother. Carver must believe that he can activate it."

"Then he will fail. That relic has been inactive for six centuries."

"Perhaps you should not discount the Humans so easily, Brother. Overconfidence is a failing." With that warning, she turned and left the bridge in a swirl of golden fabrics, leaving Rakiin alone to consider her words.

-----

"We're not going to make it, are we?"

Tal flinched at the fatalistic sound of the Skipper's voice, then shook his head. No amount of piloting genius could change the laws of physics. "No. At this speed, they'll be on us almost a full minute before we reach the star." It wasn't fair. Not after everything that _Icarus_ had done for them. It wasn't fair.

"No."

Tal and the Skipper turned to look at Alex, who was glaring at them both and shaking his head. "No. We're not going to be caught. I am not going to give up. I am _not_ going to die here."

"What do you want me to do, Carver?" Tal's voice was full of irritation. "With our warp bubble distorted, we can't do anything to speed up. They'll catch us because they're faster than us, no matter what we do. We can't change physics. It's impossible."

Alex shook his head again, "Impossible is a word people use too often." Turning away from Tal, he looked at the Skipper. "You trust me?"

Selene paused, then nodded. "Yes."

"Which way to the engine room?"

Selene smiled. "Come with me. Tal? Keep flying."

"Not much else for me to do, Skipper."

As Alex stepped through the hatch and left the bridge, his voice floated up to Tal. "And get ready."

"Ready for what?"

"... a miracle."

-----

Alex stood in the middle of the cramped engine room, staring in dismay at the tangled nest of wires and cables running to and from the miniature warp core at the centre of the room. The air was warm and thick, smelling lightly of coolant. Containment must be thin, running threadbare. In fact, that was the impression that the entire engine gave. It looked like something that someone had slapped together using parts from a dozen different eras. The warp core looked like it belonged on a twenty-third century ship, but it was attached to a transwarp coil that hadn't even been designed until a hundred years later.

And then there was the control panel, which looked like it had been built a thousand years ago for one of the early warp 5 ships.

Beside him, Selene shrugged. "Sorry about the mess. Haven't had a mechanic for a while."

"Right," Alex sighed and walked up to the control panel, placing his hand over the computer. "Big miracle." Closing his eyes, he reached out and entered the computer.

There was no need to run any diagnostics to check on the shape of the _Icarus_, all of her aches and pains were glaringly obvious to him, each system malfunction flashing in front of his eyes without him even needing to try looking. Even the ship's software was corrupted and patched, jerry-rigged to bare efficiency. It would take weeks, if not months, to repair all of the ship's computer problems, not to mention the actual hardware.

But that wasn't important right now. Right now, all he had to do was stabilize the warp field. And that wasn't hard at all. Of course, while he was at it anyway, why not add a few new algorithms…

As he rose back into himself, he heard the comm flick on, Tal's surprised voice shouting through the ship. _"Skipper! I don't know how he did it, but we just hit 9.6!"_

Selene gaped at him in astonishment, the question of how he had done it written across her face. Alex shrugged and walked over to another terminal. "I need an open comm line."

"Why?"

"I need to talk to the Hub."

-----

The Transwarp Hub. An enormous ring built in orbit of Sol during the early twenty-fifth century which permitted any starship to access the millions of transwarp conduits that lay just within subspace, allowing them to reach speeds thousands of times faster than the best warp drive.

For centuries, it has lain unused, nothing more than a vestige of an era long past, the codes required to activate it long lost to the annals of time. But now, it rumbles as a communication reaches it.

A communication telling it to wake.

-----

"My Lord."

Rakiin glanced at the young Khanate that knelt before him, the ever growing glare of the Sun filling the _Gilgamesh_'s bridge. "Report."

"My Lord, the Starfleet vessel has increased speed to warp 9.6. At that speed, we will be unable to intercept before they reach their destination."

"Increase speed to Warp 9.9."

The officer shook his head. "My Lord, they have already gained too much ground. It is impossible to intercept. Also... The Transwarp Hub is activating."

Astonishment filled Rakiin, momentarily eclipsing his hatred of the crew of that tiny vessel. What Carver was doing was impossible.

What else could this man do?

-----

"That's it. My bag of tricks is empty."

Selene smiled as she patted Alex on the shoulder. "It's good enough for now." Flipping on the intercom, she spoke into the receiver. "Tal? How's it look?"

"_We're actually gonna make it, Skipper! I don't know what you did, buddy, but the Hub's on-line! We're gonna make it out!"_

Alex sighed and turned back to the engine, staring beyond the bulkheads and imagining Earth in the distance. "Yeah. Guess we will."

Selene glanced up at the funereal tone in his voice, disturbed as she watched him stand there, looking more lost than ever. As she left the engine room and headed for the bridge, she frowned.

Everyone on this ship was lost, damaged, in some way or another. The question was, would Alex be able to move past it?

Looking back towards the engine room, she realized that she wasn't sure.

-----

Rakiin watched, transfixed, as the cargo ship vanished into the swirling miasma of the Transwarp Hub, blinking out of existence in less than a second. His voice very quiet, but filled with malice as he asked, "Can you track them?"

"No, My Lord. At the moment... we're unable to project which transwarp conduit they entered."

Breathing deeply, Rakiin turned and left the bridge, leaving behind a scrambling group of officers desperate to find a way to track the Starfleet vessel before he returned.

They failed.

-----

Alex felt the _Icarus_ jump into transwarp, the vibration of the deckplates skipping for a split-second before returning to normal. Looking around at the mess surrounding him, he sighed. He would deal with this later.

He left the engine room, wandering aimlessly around the ship for at least ten minutes before he found a window. Looking out at the swirling blue miasma of transwarp, he placed his hand against the glass, feeling the coldness of the smooth surface beneath his fingers.

He should be happy. They had survived for another day. He was free of Rakiin. He was free of the Jem'Hadar. He was free from the _Gilgamesh_.

So why did he feel like he had failed?

He stood there for a long time, not saying a word.

-----

Overconfidence is a failing, she had said, reminding him not to dismiss the Humans out of hand.

She had been right, damn her. She had been right.

Rakiin watched the chained Jem'Hadar sitting in the middle of the cell, the wounds that the Humans had inflicted on him left untreated. The wicked gash that Rakiin himself had carved in the Jem'Hadar's face still bled white.

He had lost control, had allowed it to slip away from him completely during the battle. His hatred of Kordath and his desire for revenge had caused him to make mistakes, mistakes that had allowed Carver to escape, most likely taking the technological advances he carried straight to the Federation. Advanced weapons, engines, the Federation Remnant would have it all, all because of his lack of control.

Damn Aishwarya to hell for being right.

The Jem'Hadar had not moved since being placed in this cell, remaining completely motionless as his sentence for failing his Lord had been read to him. The _Gilgamesh_ would return home to Fatalis and there, in the Holy City, before the entire Khanate race, the Jem'Hadar would be stripped of his rank and exiled. To the Commander of a Khanate's Personal Guard, it would be a fate worse than death. It would be eternal, everlasting shame.

Absently rubbing the scarred remains of his right wrist as he turned and left the Jem'Hadar behind, Rakiin smiled. Good.

But that brought him to another problem. With the Jem'Hadar exiled, he required a new Commander for his Personal Guard. A man who would succeed where the Jem'Hadar had failed. Someone who would be capable of capturing Carver.

Stepping into another cell, he waved the doctors away from their patient, casting a cursory glance over the medical readouts surrounding him. He would not have long.

A slight smile on his lips, Rakiin knelt down and addressed the man on the cell bunk, taking careful note of his laboured breathing, the gradually slowing sound of his heart as it struggled to pump blood through a damaged body.

"I had hoped that our next meeting would be under more pleasant circumstances, Commander."

Jason Madden turned his head towards Rakiin, horrified eyes expressing everything that he could not say. His gasping breaths hitched for a second, his collapsed lungs fighting for air. Resting his only remaining hand on Jason's mangled chest, Rakiin's voice was soft as he spoke. "You stepped in front of the weapon for your friends, Commander. I saw the recording. I saw your eyes. You wanted to die.

"But death comes for you now, Commander. Can you feel her? The cold brush of her hand? Is she everything you wanted? Can you hear her call? The cries of the damned in her voice?"

Madden was close to death, at his weakest. At the moment of death, every living creature desires life, will fight for it, biting and clawing. For Madden, Rakiin saw, that moment was now.

"Allow me to make... a proposition, Commander. Do you wish to live?"

Every living creature will fight for life.

And with Madden's response, Rakiin had his new Commander.

-

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

A quick nod, once again, to Greg Cox's novel _To Reign in Hell: The Exile of Khan Noonien Singh_, for the reference to the city of Fatalis. Anyone who's read that book should be able to tell where Rakiin and his gang are headed now.

By the way, the _Intrepid_ class I based the _Icarus _on isn't _Voyager_, it's the _Intrepid_ from **Enterprise**. So she's a _real_ old design.

**JadziaKathryn **and **Grayangle**, I just want to thank you both for your continued support on this. Without your reviews, I wouldn't have gotten this far.


	23. Chrysalis, Ch 1

**Chrysalis, Chapter One:  
**

"_A man either lives life as it happens to him, meets it head on and licks it, or he turns his back on it and starts to wither away."  
-_Dr. Philip Boyce, "_The Cage_" 

_-----_

_Evolution._

_It is the crucible through which we must walk, the chrysalis in which we grow. The word alone conjures images of a single celled organism crawling from boiling seas of poison onto a volcanic land, changing over the course of uncounted millennia into the dominant species of the planet. Like a moth, we fight, we claw, we scream for release from our cocoon, incapable of comprehending what is happening to us, understanding only the mind-numbing agony of change. But it is the fight to free ourselves that makes us strong, that lets us survive. If someone else were to help us, we would emerge too early, too weak to survive in a Universe which seems to find a perverse pleasure in our pain._

_We would die._

_Evolution. A word which describes us as a species, embraces us as a whole, from our humble beginnings to our triumphant end. It is a macrocosm._

_But so, too, does it describe us as individuals, embracing our growth as people. A microcosm._

_For while we evolve as a species, we evolve as ourselves._

_-----_

Selene grunted as she stretched on the small bed, rubbing her leg as the muscles twitched. Walking over to a nearby chair, she lifted her jacket from it's back, frowning as she examined the multitude of rips and tears in the leather. It had been an old jacket anyway, but it had at least been comfortable, had been worn in over the years. Sighing, she set it aside. She would have to get a new one when they got home.

"So? What's the verdict?"

Nyssa looked up from her monitor, her pronounced Romulan brow raised in surprise. Shrugging, the medic indicated the image on the screen. "Well, I'm just going to start by saying that Carver is _definitely_ not a medic. There's still some damage to your leg that I'll have to work on, but having said that, you're pretty lucky he found you when he did. According to these scans, you had some pretty heavy internal bleeding. If you'd been on your own..."

Selene nodded. "I'd be dead, right?"

"Maybe. At the very least, you wouldn't be as pretty."

Selene laughed, marveling at how good it felt to be back on her ship. After they had escaped from Sol, she had gone to her quarters and collapsed on the bed, falling asleep fully dressed. Once unconscious, she had stayed that way for almost two full days, waking only about an hour ago to Nyssa's insistence that she get up and get into sickbay. A drowsy Selene had agreed on one condition.

Coffee.

Picking her mug up off of Nyssa's small desk, Selene chuckled as she inhaled the bitter smell. It was only her second cup in nearly a week and a half, and frankly, it was about time. "And here I thought you guys followed me for my charm and charisma, not my looks."

Nyssa shrugged, a small grin on her face as she leaned back in her chair. "No offense, Skipper, but you're not my type." Leaning forward, the Romulan's features lit with curiosity. "Carver, on the other hand, is pretty cute, even if his forehead's a little smooth and his ears are a little round."

Selene scowled into her coffee. Had this blend always been this bitter? "Leave it alone, Nyssa."

"Just curious. The two of you, alone, on an abandoned world, being hunted by a vicious enemy..."

Slamming her mug down on the desk, wincing as the hot liquid splashed onto the back of her hand, Selene nearly yelled. "I said leave it alone!"

Nyssa jumped back in surprise, flushing jade to the tips of her ears. "Sorry, Skipper." Her voice was hesitant and small, the voice of a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I was just..."

Selene sighed and sat back down on the bed. "Sorry, Nyssa. I didn't mean to yell, just... It's complicated, okay? The man just lost everything he ever knew, including his wife and his best friend. That makes things..." Selene struggled to find the right word. "Complicated."

"What about you?"

Looking up in surprise, Selene frowned. "What about me?"

Nyssa shrugged, cradling her own mug of tea. "You talk about what's making it difficult from his end, but what's making things difficult from yours?"

"You becoming a psychiatrist now?" As Nyssa shrugged with a noncommittal noise, Selene stared into the black depths of her coffee. "I don't know. Like you said, he is cute, but it's just..."

"Let me guess. Complicated?"

"Funny. On the one hand, we work well together. You should have seen us fighting to get out of the Gilgamesh. It was like we'd done it a million times."

"Nothing stirs romance like a little bloodshed."

"I was wrong. You're becoming a comedian. You write your own material?" Selene grunted a small laugh. "But on the other hand, I just met him. What do I really know about him?"

"You obviously trust him, or you wouldn't have brought him here. You're a pretty good judge of character, Skipper, Tal notwithstanding, so he's got to be a good guy."

Selene sighed. "There's something else, Nyssa. Something pretty big."

"What could be bigger than the whole 'Hi, I'm from another Universe' thing?"

A long moment passed as Selene stared into her coffee, drinking the last of it in a single swallow. Gulping down the burning liquid, she placed the mug down on the desk. "In his reality, I was his wife."

Nyssa's jaw dropped, and the Romulan stared at Selene, wide-eyed. "Okay.

"That is complicated."

-----

_Change is necessary for our very existence. Without it, we stagnate and collapse in on ourselves, confident and comfortable in our mediocrity. Without change, everything remains the same. And though, to some, that may sound comforting, even ideal, it is anything but._

_Without change, there is no challenge, no excellence. Change is the cocoon that binds us, forcing us to grow stronger through our constant fight against it. Without change to fight against, we would never grow strong, never leave childhood behind to become adults. _

_We would never evolve._

_Evolution is change, forced upon us by a Universe which knows that pain is necessary for growth. For is it not the death of the parents that forces a child to face life alone, on their own two feet, without recourse, without the comforting support of a mother or father? Alone, we must face the world, confident in our own ability to adapt to whatever the Universe hands us._

_Evolve or die._

-----

Alex sat alone in the Engine room of the _Icarus_, staring at the smiling hologram in front of him. The golden locket was lying face up on the control panel of the warp core, Selene, his Selene, spinning around in the air before his eyes.

This was his past.

Around him lay the half-exposed parts of the warp core, a chaotic jumble of machines and technology, all of them centuries out of date to his mind.

This was his present.

As he watched himself enter the holofield, picking Selene up and dancing around like lunatics, he found himself wondering what had happened to the Rose Garden. Was it still there, on Earth? Was the University still there? Or were they gone now, reduced to rubble and ash like San Francisco? He didn't know. For all he was sure of, British Columbia itself may be gone, the province carved from orbit by Khanate weapons fire. Or, alternatively, it was possible that it was nothing more than a giant forest now, nature having reclaimed what Humanity had taken to build it's cities, the Rose Garden overgrown, but alive and thriving.

He would like to believe the latter, but found the former to be much more likely.

Angrily, he snapped the locket off of the console, deactivating the hologram just as it prepared to repeat the recording. He had watched it at least three dozen times already, in the hopes of finding comfort in the familiar image. It didn't work. It just constantly reminded him of the empty space in his heart where Selene used to be, which, in turn, reminded him of the emptiness where Jason had lived.

Which simply reminded him that _everyone he had ever known was dead_.

Prying an access panel off the wall, he took a look at the confused group of isolinear chips sticking out of their slots. Half of them were burnt out and overloaded, completely useless. Pulling one out, he held it up to a light source and examined it. A fine coating of dust covered it, silkily collecting on his finger tips. Useless. Throwing it over his shoulder, the dead chip joined the quickly growing pile of refuse on the deck, followed by eight other isolinear chips he pulled out of the panel. They were all dead, and had been for a while. His respect for Selene and her crew seemed to grow with every damaged system he found. It was a miracle that they had managed to keep this ship flying with all the shortcuts and lousy patch jobs her last mechanic had done. Right now, while he worked, it was amazing that he was able to keep _Icarus_ steady at warp two.

Soon after they had made the jump to transwarp, Nyssa had dragged him into the sickbay, patched his cuts and bruises, but claimed that his mild fever and aches were mostly due to exhaustion. Allowing her to guide him to a set of quarters, he had sat on the edge of the bunk for two or three hours before he had succumbed to sleep, passing out and waking again less than eight hours later. His sleep had been, as usual, fitful, filled with dark dreams of being hunted by a being with clear blue eyes.

When he'd woken, he had found a small pile of clothes next to the bunk with a note explaining that _Icarus'_ last mechanic had been about his size and that the crew had thought he might want a change of clothes. Looking down at the torn uniform he had been wearing, he'd chuckled. Might be a good idea.

The clothes were a little large, hanging off him awkwardly as he had made his way back to the engine room, where he had stayed ever since. There was a lot of work to do here, and while he was working, he could pretend that he wasn't thinking.

He had known Jason almost his entire life, they had grown up together, and it had always been Jason who had protected him, from the moment that they had met. Jason had been the strong one, the leader, the one that people followed without question because, well, it was Jason. Alex had been the one in the shadows, the one who had needed protecting, the one who had enough brains and talent to get by, but not nearly enough leadership ability to step out of Jason's shadow and become his own person. He had always been the second string, the sidekick.

Until Selene had come along and changed it all.

For the first time, someone had seen _him_, and not Jason's friend. She had nurtured him, believed in him, forced him to become someone separate from Jason Madden. And, without even seeing it himself, he had changed. Become a leader, stepped into the light and created his own identity all because of her.

And now, they were both gone.

Without them, the identity he had created was shattered by grief, the world he had relied on vanished without a trace. For the first time in his life, he was truly alone, left without guidance. All he had left was his knowledge, his talent for machines.

Was that enough?

A sudden knock at the hatch made him jump in surprise, banging his knee on the edge of a console. Spinning around, he watched as the Bajoran... Tal... opened the door and peeked inside. "Carver?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh. You are here. Hey." The young pilot stepped inside, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his dirty flightsuit. "Thought I'd let you know. Skipper got up about an hour ago, and dinner'll be on the table in about twenty minutes or so. If you're interested."

Selene, this Universe's Selene, was awake. On the one hand, he was glad to hear it, was anxious to see her again, but on the other, she was the last person he wanted to see right now. A confused jumble of emotions rose in him, each one fighting for dominance. He was quiet for a long moment before he realized that Tal was still in the room, waiting for an answer to his unspoken question. "Thanks."

Tal shrugged and walked out. It wasn't an answer. Alex would either show up to dinner or he wouldn't. And as Alex turned back to the pile of isolinear chips, he realized that he wasn't even sure whether he would or not.

-----

_To grow, we suffer. It is the way of things. The deaths of loved ones, the loss of a home, these things push us, forcing us to deal with them in our own way. By dealing with the change, we grow, we evolve. The person at the end of the journey is not the same person who started the journey, not in any way that truly matters. The journey may be long and arduous, and even the flesh may change, but the identity of the traveler undergoes the most growth. _

_Self-discovery is a difficult path, but it is through facing the challenges before us that we learn who and what we are at our core. It is our fate, our destiny, to suffer._

_No one said that evolution was easy._

-----

Alone in his quarters, Kordath stared at the carved image of Kahless the Unforgettable, the legendary warrior's face shadowed in the flickering red light cast by the candles on the floor. Silence filled the small room, waves of heat rising from the deckplates to shimmer in the air. Kordath had knelt before the statue for hours, meditating, healing both body and mind. Absently, he could feel the pain of his chest wound fading away, becoming nothing more than one more constant ache among millions, nothing more than another scar.

Standing, he turned and took a step towards the closet, the only piece of furniture in the room besides the small altar to Kahless. Even his bed was little more than a thin mattress on the floor, rolled into the corner when not in use. Facing the small closet, he opened the wooden doors and gazed inside, noting the glistening metal robe within, devoid of any symbols whatsoever. No medals adorned the fabric, no symbol of his House declared itself to the Universe.

He had earned no medals.

He had no House.

Silently, he stripped the heavy leather armour from his body, placing it carefully before him. The shoulderguards were removed first, followed by the large leather belt that encircled his waist. Without a sound, he shrugged off the chestplate, folding it and laying it gently above the rest of his armour. For a long moment, he stood there, unarmoured, clad only in trousers and the light chain mail that he wore beneath as he stared at the robe. Gently, with a single fluid motion, he removed the robe from the closet and pulled it on, laying the heavy fabric over his shoulders before closing the closet, shutting the armour away within.

Turning back to the small altar, he knelt before it once more, placing his hands over the _bat'leth_ that lay on the floor. Gently, he lifted the ancient blade, examining the blood the marred it's smooth surface. A great deal of ivory blood ran in gentle patterns across the crescent shaped blade, crowned with a single streak of red at it's tip. In ancient times, it would have been mistaken for the shattered moon of Praxis, it's blood-drenched form hanging high among the stars above the surface of Qo'noS. Perhaps, he thought to himself, the blood moon had been the inspiration for the blade's design. Perhaps, Kahless had wished to reach into the sky and claim the moon itself as a weapon to slay his enemies.

Fanciful notions for such a deadly tool.

Holding the blade by one hand, he reached to the side and lifted a small vessel of water, running the liquid down the length of the weapon. As the water dripped off of the end, it's colour turning milky white as it washed the blood away, Kordath stared at his own reflection in the _bat'leth_. It was distorted, rippled by the water. It was the image of an old man, his grey hair long and unkempt, lines of exhaustion and age circling his eyes. But it was his eyes that captured, eyes as sharp and as deadly as they had been in his youth, but tainted by wisdom and knowledge. Death and dishonour, a desire for revenge that had not yet been met.

Rakiin had been right. He had become old.

Removing a small pin from the handguards, he unwrapped the leather, removing it from the weapon's handles. Laying the two long strips out before him, he cleaned both of them, noting where they had become threadbare and acknowledging that they were no longer adequate. Lifting two new pieces of leather, he cleaned them and laid them out, nodding in satisfaction. Carefully folding the old pieces, he placed them to the side, unwilling to throw them away. They would be placed in the base of the closet, there to join every other set of handguards he had removed from this blade over the years.

Cupping his hand in the small container of water beside him, he poured it over the whetstone, watching as the liquid dripped off and pooled on the floor. He lifted the blade and placed it over the stone, gliding it's edge over the smooth surface. The room was filled with the sound of metal on stone, the scraping noise deafening after the long silence. Kordath remained like this for a long time, each gentle movement filled with intent, cleaning and sharpening the blade. As he watched, small shavings fell to the ground, the _bat'leth_ itself regaining it's edge, the small flaws and chips vanishing as though they had never been.

Raising the blade from the whetstone, he stared into it once again. His reflection stared back, as clear as though he were staring into a flawless mirror. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he lifted the long strips of leather, tying them back around the handguards and pinning them in place. Rising to his feet, he carried it with him to the closet, resting it in it's stand on top. Stepping back, he bowed, content.

The _bat'leth_ was ready to kill again.

Kneeling before the altar, he lifted his _dk'tahg_ and began again.

-----

_In reality, we are all of us little more than Lemmings, each of us blindly following the ones before to the cliff's edge. We stand there, unaware of the doom that has befallen our forebears and step forward, realizing in that split-second before we fall what we have done, knowing in that fateful instant that we do not have wings, that we are about to plummet to our deaths, evolution and change laughing at us as we panic._

_But still we try, aware of the final outcome or not, to succeed where those before us have failed. Still we leap from the precipice, knowing somehow that what we do is for a greater future, even though we will not be there to see it._

_Our suffering drives us to the cliff, our desire to escape it leading us to step off the edge. Some... most... do not survive. But still we leap, confident that we will have the last laugh._

_Because someday, a Lemming will change, growing wings and flying away, the painful lessons of evolution learned._

-----

"You talk to Carver yet?"

Tal shrugged as he poured himself a cup of coffee, turning to face Nyssa just as she slumped down into one of the chairs set around the table. _Icarus'_ dining room was small and cramped, like the rest of the ship, but, unlike the _Harsesis'_ sterile mess hall, the dining room had a feeling of home. Sitting down at the table was like sitting down for dinner at a favourite relative's house.

At least, that's what Tal assumed it was like, not having any family beyond this crew.

Sitting down in a chair facing Nyssa, Tal shrugged again. "Have you tried talking to the guy? He's quiet. Doesn't say much. Half the time, I wonder if he's actually listening to me."

"Well, it must be hard on him. I mean, to him, we must practically be stone-age."

"Doesn't give him the right to act like we're beneath him."

Nyssa frowned as she sipped her tea. "I don't think he's acting like we're beneath him. I think it's more that he doesn't know how to act with us. From what the Skipper tells me, his world was a big, happy Federation. Lots of love and hugs kind of place. To go from that to this place..."

Tal nodded, "Yeah, I suppose."

"He's probably just trying to adapt, Tal. Learn how to live in this world, and right now, he needs time to think."

Tal mulled that point over for a second, "And I have to admit. The ship's working a whole lot better in the two days since he came aboard. Did I tell you that we actually made it to 9.6 the other day?"

Nyssa nodded, "Yeah, you did." Sighing, the Romulan glanced at the door. "Think he'll actually show for dinner tonight?"

"Skipper's up. That might make him join us."

Frowning, Nyssa shook her head. "That's a complicated situation, Tal. It might make him come, or it might push him further away."

"You know something, don't you?" Nyssa bowed her head and muttered into her tea. Tal jumped up and danced around in triumph. "I knew it! I knew it! You and the Skipper had some 'girl-time', didn't you? Girly talk!"

"Shut up, Tal."

"You and the Skipper had a girly-girl conversation! Come on, Nyssa, spill it! Was there ice cream? Manicures? _Pedicures_? Pillow fights?"

"No, but we burned pictures of boys who annoyed us. There were a lot of pictures of you floating around." Nyssa grabbed a plastic cup off the table and lobbed it in Tal's direction. The Bajoran ducked the projectile easily, still grinning from ear to ear. Nyssa threw her hands up in the air, disgusted. "Praetor's Name, I'm seventy-three years old, Tal! I don't have sleep-overs! And if the Skipper heard of you asking if she was getting a pedicure while gossiping about boys..."

"I'd probably shove you out the airlock."

Tal and Nyssa jumped to their feet at the sound of Selene's voice. Spinning around, they saw that the Skipper was leaning against the doorjamb, watching the both of them with a look of wry amusement on her face. "Either of you going to say something, or is one of you going to refill my coffee?" She held her mug out.

Tal recovered first and grabbed the mug out of the Skipper's hand like it was made of gold-pressed latinum, practically running to the coffee pot to refill it. Nyssa gulped, "Uh... How long have you been standing there?"

Selene grinned, "Since I heard the words 'Girly Talk'." Tal almost dropped the mug. "Honestly, Tal, it's the thirty-first century. Women don't have sleepovers with manicures and pedicures anymore." Taking her coffee from Tal's hand, she inhaled, sighing as the first hints of a caffeine rush hit her brain. "We sharpen our weapons and gossip about the best way to kill annoying Bajorans."

Nyssa burst out laughing at Tal's sudden look of terror as his eyes darted back and forth from the Skipper to the door. Behind her coffee, Selene grinned, enjoying Tal's discomfort. Feeling himself to be outnumbered, Tal ran from the room, the sound of both women's chuckles at his back. Glancing over his shoulder, he never even saw the obstacle in his way until he was flat on the floor, staring up at it.

"Hi, Kordath."

The enormous Klingon was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed in front of his massive chest. "Tal." Nodding to both Nyssa and Selene, Kordath helped Tal to his feet. "Have you learned nothing of strategy from me, Maynon Tal?"

"What?"

Indicating the other two in the room, Kordath frowned. "You went into battle unprepared and outnumbered."

Nyssa and Selene found that they couldn't stop laughing as Tal looked up at Kordath with an incredulous expression. "Great. Now the Klingon's got a sense of humour."

Stepping into the dining room, Kordath shrugged. "I was once known for my sense of humour."

As the four of them sat down at the table, Tal sighed. "Remind me never to go to the Empire."

Together, the crew of the _Icarus_ sat at the table, waiting for dinner to be ready, laughing and joking. A family reunited. But for a brief instant, while the others were distracted, Selene glanced back at the door.

There was still no sign of Alex.

-----

_Evolution is change. Change is suffering. Suffering forces us to evolve. It is an endless circle, one generation becoming the next, the species clawing it's way up the evolutionary ladder. And, in the process, we discover who we are._

-----

Alex could hear the laughter echoing down the corridors, stopping his work as the sound filled the engine room. It was genuine. Real laughter. The laughter of a family.

Sighing, he sat back, pulling the locket out and activating it one more time. Selene danced and laughed before him, a young woman completely in love. As he watched, he began to laugh. He missed her. He missed her with all of his heart, but in a way, she wasn't gone. He remembered her. He remembered everything that she had taught him. How she had taught him to trust himself, to believe in what his heart told him to do. As long as he remembered those lessons, she would never be gone. Her spirit would survive in his.

He thought of Jason. Jason Madden, who could be the most frustratingly single-minded person in the world, but who, when it had come down to the end, had been the most loyal friend Alex had ever had. He had saved Alex from the wreckage of the Albion, had followed him through the Guardian of Forever, and finally, had given up his life to save Alex and this Universe's Selene. Jason was dead, but, like Selene, the lessons remained. Stand up for yourself. Don't let anyone tell you you're wrong if you know that you're right. Trust your friends. Take care of them. Because, in the end, you're never really alone.

And you'll never have to be.

Alex sat alone in the engine room, listening to the sound of laughter, watching the hologram of his wife dance before his eyes.

Turning off the hologram, he laid the final isolinear chip on top of the pile, surveying the work he had done so far. It was true, he thought. To clean a mess, you have to make a mess. The room was a disaster area, parts and tools strewn across the deck, but at least now, Alex knew where he was going, what needed to be fixed.

And he smiled.

-----

_We stand on the edge of the cliff, staring down at the crashing waters below, aware for the first time that many have stood here before us, ready take that final leap of faith and step off, trusting that we will not fall. Aware for the first time that none have yet succeeded. Aware for the first time of the price of failure._

_And still we jump._

_And for the first time, we do not fall._

_For the first time, a Lemming has flown away. _

-----

Selene laughed as she held the piece of chicken before her, waving it in the air to make a point. The dinner was delicious. They didn't usually use the replicator, it took up too much power, but this was a special occasion. Selene was famished, tearing through her roast chicken as though it was her first meal in nearly a week and a half. Which it was, actually. Beside her, Kordath picked at the _gagh_ in the bowl before him, while Tal nibbled at his _hasparat_, savouring the spicy dish. Nyssa sipped at her soup, something called chicken and _matzoh_ ball. How Nyssa had learned of it, Selene had no clue, but it had somehow become her favourite dish.

"Okay. Okay. So we're stuck at the bottom of the Mainframe, this skeleton behind us, and something like two dozen Jem'Hadar in front of us. And their leader steps up to me, looks at me and he says," Selene deepened her voice, producing a terrible imitation of Herma'Taklan, "'My men must not have done a good job with you, Human. You barely look beaten.'"

Tal and Nyssa started to laugh while Kordath shook his head. Selene took a second to take a sip of water, desperately trying not to laugh as she drank. "So this Jem'Hadar says this, and I look up to him and I say..."

"She says: 'That was supposed to be a beating? I thought they'd gone into the massage business because I have been _so_ stressed.'"

The four of them stopped and turned to look at the door. Alex stood there, the clothes Nyssa had supplied hanging loosely off of him as the engineer watched them with a sheepish grin on his face. Selene put the chicken back down on her plate. "We weren't sure if you were going to join us."

Alex shrugged, "I was busy with the engines, but I suppose they can wait long enough for dinner." He made to step back, "If that's okay. I mean, I can get back to work..."

Kordath stood from the table, grabbing a chair from the other side of the room and pulling it forward. "Join us, Alexander."

Tal leaned back, waving at the replicator. "Food's over there. We don't use the replicator much, but special occasion and all that."

Nyssa arched an eyebrow. "And how long's it been since you've eaten, anyway? A week? Week and a half? You're no good as an engineer if you pass out from hunger on the floor of the engine room."

Selene glanced at Alex and shrugged, waving him towards the seat Kordath had pulled up. "Guess the crew's spoken. Get some dinner and sit down."

Alex smiled and stepped over to the replicator, returning to the table with a plate of chili and garlic bread. There was a moment of awkward silence as he sat down, adjusting the chair until he was comfortable. The five of them stared at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Then Tal reached over the table and grabbed a piece of garlic bread from Alex's plate, dipping it in the chili and munching down on it. "Oh, that's good."

"Tal!" Selene was aghast.

"What? It's not like he was eating it!"

Alex stared at the piece of bread clutched in Tal's hand, then reached over with his fork and speared a piece of _hasparat_, pulling it back and popping it into his mouth. "That's good _hasparat_, Tal. Thanks."

"Hey!"

Beside Selene, Kordath started to laugh at Tal's indignation, which set both Nyssa and Selene chuckling. Within seconds, the five of them were reaching over and picking at each other's plates, stealing food from the others while trying to protect their own dinners. Although, amazingly, no one even made a try for the _gagh_. Well, maybe it wasn't that surprising.

Amid it all, Selene watched Alex smile and laugh, happy to find that she had been wrong. He would be fine.

That was when Nyssa reached for a drumstick and Selene had a fight on her hands.


	24. Chrysalis, Ch 2

**Chrysalis, Chapter Two:  
**

"_He wanted to protect the innocent... and separate the darkness from the light. But he didn't realize that a light only shines in the dark… and sometimes innocence... is just an excuse for the guilty."_

-Mjr. Kira Nerys_, "The Darkness and the Light"_

_-----_

There are some words that, once spoken, can never be reclaimed, some promises that, once made, can never be broken. Some know them as blood oaths, others as vows...

But to Jason Madden, they were called a deal with the devil.

He had made the decision to die, had accepted the fact that the end was coming towards him with all of the inevitability of a landslide, but in the end, as he had lain dying on the cold bunk as Rakiin had made his offer, his conviction had wavered. He had chosen to live, no matter the cost.

Now, two Khanate doctors laid his damaged body carefully within the tall glass coffin, lowering the clear lid as they prepared him for his descent into suspended animation. The wound in his chest still burned with an icy flame, but he could feel the sensation begin to fade away as the first wisps of frigid gas entered the casket. Death's icy touch lessened, replaced by the arctic cold of cryonic sleep.

What would Alex think of him now, he wondered? Jason the strong, Jason the Brave, reduced to a pathetic wreck, the next breath more important to him than his own values, his own beliefs, his own friends? He had always been impulsive, the brash shout to Alex's thoughtful whisper. He had never before realized how much he had needed Alex, how much Alex had become the conscience that kept him from crossing the line. They had been two sides of the same coin, twin reflections in the mirror.

To save his own skin, he had betrayed his best friend and he had betrayed the very ideals of the Federation. He was a Commander in Starfleet. He was supposed to be shining and pure, self-sacrificing and wise, a figure that future generations could aspire to.

He was none of those things. He was a failure, complete and absolute.

As the glass panels on the sepulchre frosted over, he could see the world outside dim as it entered a dusk that existed for him and him alone, his eyesight dimming as his mind shut down. And as he watched Rakiin's face vanish behind the forming ice crystals, as his mind struggled to escape the ice that encroached upon it, he felt a new resolve burning inside.

He was alive. And where there's life, there's hope.

If he could have, Jason would have grinned. For one brief instant, he had faltered, he had looked for the easy way out, but the very mistake that had brought him here could be useful. He was onboard the _Gilgamesh_, about to become the head of Rakiin's guard. In that position, he would have power, the ability to safeguard Alex from the very heart of the hunt for him. Power. That was the answer. Not the power to change the Universe, not the power to control empires, but the power to help a friend. A man could have all the best intentions in the world, but without the power to make them come to pass, he could do nothing but sit and watch the world go by.

Jason had always protected Alex from the world around them, had always stood between him and danger, and now, even in this Universe, Jason would continue to do so.

_Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer._ He had never really understood the saying, having never truly had an enemy. Now though, he understood. He understood perfectly. To save Alex, stay away from him, and stay close to the Khanate.

_Keep your enemies close, but keep away from your friends._

And with that thought to guide him in the darkness, Jason Madden closed his eyes.

-----

_"Go to, go to; you have known what you should not."_

The words sat on the yellowed page, the ancient print indelibly inked onto the brittle and decaying paper, their black forms sharp beneath her long tapered fingers.

_"She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that; Heaven knows what she has known."_

Alone in her library, her features lit only by the dim light above her desk, Aishwarya reread the lines over and over, her eyes barely moving from the single spot on the page as her fingers traced the words.

_"Here's the smell of the blood still; all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!"_

She had read those words thousand of times since she had been a child, absorbing every word that William Shakespeare had written fourteen centuries ago, and yet, for the first time, she truly understood the words. She could feel the blood on her hands, even though not a drop had ever splashed on her skin. She could remember how it had felt to pull the trigger, to snuff out the lives of both of the Jem'Hadar guards. Now, she knew how it felt to be her Brother, how it felt to commit a murder with a smile on her face and a song of joy in her heart. She knew now how it was to wash her hands and know that they would never come clean, that the blood that stained them would stain them forever. She had taken two lives, willingly and without a second thought, and now that it was done, the action haunted her.

But how was the alternative any better? If she had not done what she had done, if she had committed the crime of inaction, three lives would now be gone, instead of only two. Jason Madden. Commander Starfleet. Alexander Carver. Lieutenant Starfleet. Selene Weller. Captain of the _Icarus_. She repeated the names to herself over and over, unwilling to forget the people that she had tried to save. And yet, at the same time, she struggled to forget the names of the lives she had stolen.

Hal'Toran. Fifth. Third Regiment. Assigned to the Personal Guard of Shade, Changeling Inquisitor to Lord Rakiin.

Ton'Moral. Sixth. Third Regiment. Assigned to the Personal Guard of Shade, Changeling Inquisitor to Lord Rakiin.

With a soft sigh, she closed the book, running her hands across the leather bound tome one last time, feeling the sensation of rough leather beneath her fingertips. For the first time she could ever remember, her books were bringing her no comfort. Every word she read, every page she turned, every book she opened only reminded her of those two Jem'Hadar guards, of the sounds that their bodies made as they fell to the deck, of the feel of the plasma rifle recoiling in her hands.

Their eyes haunted her, the shock and surprise etched in them as they had watched the sister of their Lord cold-bloodedly end their lives. Two sentient beings, dead by her hand.

She was a murderer.

Without a sound, she stood and replaced her copy of _MacBeth_ on the shelf, her hand brushing over the covers of it's sister volumes. _Hamlet, prince of Denmark_. The story of a man consumed by the need to avenge his father. _Julius Caesar_. The story of betrayal.

With an annoyed sigh, she turned from the bookshelf. There would be no solace in words today.

Sitting down in one of the high-backed chairs, she stared into the darkness of her library, contemplating the list of crimes she was guilty of. Allowing a murderer to go free. Rakiin had murdered their father, this was a fact, an unshakable reality. Yet had she made him pay, had she avenged her father's murder? No. Was she guilty? Yes.

Murder. Two lives taken by her hands. Was she guilty? Yes.

Attempted murder. The Changeling, Shade, was still recovering from her attack. She had not killed him, but that had been incidental. When she had fired her weapon at him, it had been her purpose to kill. Was she guilty? Yes.

Failure to take responsibility for her actions. Herma'Taklan, while hardly an innocent, would be made to pay for her crimes. With a single word, she could admit her treason, but would that save the Jem'Hadar Commander? No. Rakiin would still punish him for no other reason than to see it done. Was she guilty? Yes.

And what had all of her crimes gained her? What prize had she won? Jason Madden, who she had endeavoured to save, was trapped even now in suspended animation, his ruined body frozen at the brink of death by the order of her brother. She knew what Rakiin would do to him. Jason Madden would lose himself, would be recreated as a weapon, a creature whose only purpose was to kill. In her mind's eye, she could see him sitting across from her, his eyes gazing beyond the hull of the Gilgamesh, concern for his friend etched on his features. To Rakiin, Madden was simply a tool, a sword to be wielded as he wished, but to Aishwarya, Jason Madden was a man, take him for all in all, and she had never before met his like. He was kind and honourable, and Rakiin would take that from him. He would become cold and callous, more like Rakiin, more like the Jem'Hadar.

She could prevent it. She could stop it all before it was even given a chance to begin. Looking down, she stared at the knife she always kept, her dark eyes hard. Yes. She could end it.

Standing, she made to leave the library. There were enough crimes laid at her feet, she would be found guilty of inaction once again.

-----

Rakiin sat in darkness, staring at the fingers of his new hand as he clenched and unclenched his fist, watching the hesitation in the muscles and tendons, cursing the weakness he felt. Genetically, the hand was no different from his real one, a prosthetic grown from his own cell samples. It was perfect, not even so much as a scar where it had been attached, but he felt as though it were a failure, as though he would take more comfort if his body would reject the hand, watching it wither away into a gangrenous stump.

Tearing his eyes away from the prosthetic, he fixed his gaze on the floor of his observation room, watching the swirling currents of Transwarp dance beneath him, but even that sight could not hold his gaze. His dark eyes found themselves consistently drawn back to a single spot on the floor, his feet leading him back to that horrific memory of failure.

He could see Kordath beneath him, the ancient Klingon's chest bleeding from the long wound that Rakiin himself had inflicted. He could feel himself raising his own blade, readying for the killing stroke that would rid him of the Klingon forever.

_Control. That was the first lesson you taught me._

The phantom's eyes lifted to meet his own, it's insubstantial gaze filled with hatred and contempt.

_But it was not the last._

Angrily, Rakiin spun from the spot where he had lost his hand, again flexing the fingers of the prosthetic replacement. Control. Fighting Kordath, he had been overconfident, certain that he had defeated the Klingon. He had believed himself to be in control of the battle, pushing Kordath to where he had wished him to be, goading his old teacher to his death, when, in fact, it had been Kordath commanding the ebb and flow of their fight.

His feet led him to another spot, where the floor was still stained with milky white blood. A ghostly Jem'Hadar knelt before him, blood dripping from the wound that Rakiin had cut into it's face. The features of the former Jem'Hadar commander were emotionless as it swore to capture the humans or die trying.

_You are dead!_

Scowling, Rakiin turned away from Herma'Taklan's ghostly form, remembering the rage that had filled him as he had attacked the Jem'Hadar. Yet another loss of control, another failure.

_I like control, Commander, and you have taken some of that away from me._

His own words to Jason Madden haunted him. This room haunted him. The entire journey to Earth had been a monumental failure, both as a commander and as a man. He had always prided himself on control, but now... He had lost a battle to an overaged, lightly-armed cargo ship. He had lost a battle to an old man, who, while skilled, should have been an easy death. And finally, he had lost the battle with himself. He had become obsessive, his entire vision focusing on the deaths of the crew of the cargo ship, and it had cost him.

Long ago, he had studied the death of Khan, watching the data stolen from Starfleet centuries before, observing as the cameras aboard both the Enterprise and the Reliant had captured every moment of the great Khan's downfall. He had watched, transfixed, as the greatest leader the Khanate people had ever known had descended into madness and obsession. Khan Noonien Singh had lost control over himself, and the cost had been his own life, while his enemy had escaped.

Rakiin glanced down at his clenched fist. His cost had been smaller, but no less terrible. He had been maimed, and his enemy had escaped. He had proven to himself that his control was lacking.

Perhaps it was time to do something about that.

-----

Hatred burned in Herma'Taklan's dead heart, rage threatening to consume him as he knelt on the floor of his cell, his arms stretched out to his sides, his chains holding him to the bulkheads. The manacles he wore on his wrists and ankles were tight, their metallic surfaces biting deep into his skin with any movement he made, and so he remained still, the only sign that he still breathed the rise and fall of his chest.

His armour had been stripped from him, leaving him bare-chested in the cold cell, his pale white skin crisscrossed with scars and newer, fresher wounds. Each wound told a tale, each scar a tactile souvenir of a memory. A circular scar directly in the middle of his chest, where he had been shot with an ancient projectile weapon. Three long claw marks that raked across his abdomen, the gift from a long dead Romulan Raptor. The thin round wound that nearly bisected his right arm, a training accident as a child. His first and last. All of these were old wounds, faded to a slightly paler white than his own ivory skin, but it was the newest that had killed him.

A long, jagged knife wound that ran across his face, recent and still raw, inflicted on him by his own Lord and Master as penance for his failure. It was a mark of his disgrace, of his dishonour. A Jem'Hadar gave up his life before battle, reclaiming it only when he returned with victory in hand. His Lord Rakiin had given him an order, to capture the Human, Carver, and Herma'Taklan had failed, had returned with the battle lost. His life, such as it was, was forfeit. He was no longer worthy to serve, and a Jem'Hadar who could not serve was dead.

He had been prepared for the execution, had been ready to welcome it as a release from the living death which he had endured since failing to capture Carver. The blade would fall, ending his body's life, allowing his soul to be reborn, free of the taint of failure, free to serve again.

But the expected blow did not come. He had knelt, chained in this cell, as his penance had been read to him. He would not be allowed to die. He would be forced to remain in this state, his soul trapped, his body alive, without a master to serve. He would become a pariah in Jem'Hadar society, his entire culture denouncing him as the living dead. To a Jem'Hadar warrior, this was a fate worse than death. This was the very imprisonment of his soul, forcing his body to grow old and die as his soul withered away and faded into nothingness. He would not be reborn. He would not be allowed to serve in the next life, because, for him, there would be no next life.

Herma'Taklan was a warrior, a killer. He had fought in battles that would make most men tremble with horror. He had made the application of violence an art unto itself. But the thought of losing his soul, of not being reborn, of never being allowed to serve again...

It filled him with a terror he had never known.

-----

Aishwarya strode through the corridors of the _Gilgamesh_, her long skirts brushing the floors as she walked. The knife hidden in her belt was heavy, it's tiny form weighing her down with every step. Never before had she noticed how many people lived aboard the cruiser, but today, she took note of every Jem'Hadar who stood at attention, of every Khanate who bowed as she crossed their paths. Her face was locked in an expression of mixed anger and resignation, a carefully preserved mask to match her carefully maintained heart rate. She forced herself to remain calm, to think of what she was about to do as a mercy, a sign that she was better than Rakiin, that she, at least, was more _humane_, if not Human.

But try as she might, she found that she could not lie to herself. She tried to focus on what Jason Madden would become, rather than on what he had been. Rakiin would train him like he would a dog, leaving Jason Madden a broken shell, capable only of obeying orders. The humanity that had so enchanted Aishwarya would be gone, lost forever beneath the stone visage of a killer. He would hunt down the friend that he had sacrificed everything for, simply because he was told to do it. He would be more monster than man. But every time she thought of what he would be, she considered what he was. Kind and honourable, selfless, willing to sacrifice himself for his friends. He was proof of what Humanity could become if they were given a chance. He was proof that her beliefs were true, that simply because a person's genes were unmodified, it did not mean that they were inferior.

However, Madden now only had two paths before him. To die as Jason Madden, the Starfleet Commander, or to live as Jason Madden, servant of the Khanate.

What right did she have to choose for him?

As she approached the medical ward, she paused. Like Madden, Aishwarya found that she too had only two paths to choose from. To kill him, or to allow him to live. If she killed him, she would be killed in turn, but she would die knowing that Madden had been freed. If she allowed him to live, his future actions could escalate the war, resulting in nothing but death. In the end, it was reduced to simple numbers.

Two lives.

To save _billions_.

She reached for her knife.

-----

The urge to scream, to tear free of these restraints and to simply kill was growing to an almost overwhelming state, but still Herma'Taklan knelt, bound to the walls. A near infinite number of scenarios played through his mind, each one growing increasingly violent. To tear the chains from the walls and charge would end in his death. To slip free and hide throughout the ship, killing anyone that crossed his path, would eventually lead to his death. Every single plan ended in death, ending in the release of his soul.

But still he knelt, his expression unchanging.

The life of a Jem'Hadar warrior was spent in service, eternal and unending. Like the ancient Jem'Hadar who had come before him, Herma'Taklan existed only to live and die in the service of his Lord, to follow his Lord's commands, to bring the galaxy itself bowing to his Lord's feet. Never before had he been required to make a decision to affect his own fate. Everything he had ever done had been to serve the Khanate, or Lord Rakiin. He was a living weapon, a juggernaut that killed anything in its path. As the Commander of Lord Rakiin's Personal Guard, he had been a sword, forged in battle, intended for the use of the Great Khanate, striking down his enemies wherever they stood.

Now, that sword was broken, it's shards cast aside. For what use were the broken remnants of a sword that had failed to protect it's master? None at all.

And so Herma'Taklan knelt, struggling with the rage and fear that threatened to consume him. His Lord wished for him to live, and so Herma'Taklan would live, would live with the shame, the guilt, and the knowledge that his soul would not be reborn. He had failed his Lord once, he would not fail again by denying his Lord's wishes.

Yet, deep within, wrapping itself around his mind like a poisonous serpent, a thought occurred to him. A hope. Perhaps, someday, he would be allowed to reclaim his life. Would be allowed to die with dignity and honour, the mission given to him by his Lord completed. The Humans, Alexander Carver and Selene Weller, still lived. The possibility of victory had not been extinguished yet. He would find them, and once he had done that, he would bring them before his Lord. And perhaps, perhaps, he would then be allowed to die.

Yes. He would find them, and he would make them suffer for every humiliation he himself had been forced to endure. That was now his goal.

His Lord would no doubt appoint a new Commander, and assign him to hunt down and capture the Humans, but Herma'Taklan, beaten, dressed in rags, an exile to his own people, had an edge that not even his replacement could overcome.

His soul hung in the balance.

_I am dead. I go into battle to reclaim my life. This I do gladly, for I am Jem'Hadar. _

He was dead, and a dead man struggling for life was the most dangerous kind.

Alone in his cell, unmoving, a prisoner of those he gladly served, Herma'Taklan smiled.

-----

The medical ward was dark as Aishwarya entered the room, the only illumination coming from the stasis chamber that held Jason Madden's body frozen in suspended animation. The pale blue glow filtered through the room, casting a cold aura on everything it touched. As the door behind her sealed, Aishwarya stepped forward, her knife in her hand, and approached the casket.

The wound in Madden's chest was even more horrific now, frozen in sheer gruesome beauty, every detail of the charred and blackened flesh unchanging. The Commander's face was cast in a rictus of pain and agony, as though he were suffering, even when his body was frozen.

Aishwarya was no stranger to death. She had watched her father die in front of her eyes. She had spent her entire life surrounded by violence, and until recently, she had never let it touch her, never let it infect her.

Then she had killed two men.

And so, the sight of Jason Madden before her, his body mangled, the knowledge of what Rakiin would do to him, should not have swayed her. She had killed already, what was one more life on the scale? She could feel the weight of her knife in her hand, she knew the rightness of what she was about to do.

And yet, she hesitated.

Her mind was at war with itself, her mind screaming that it was better to die free than live as a slave. But her heart was whispering that she had already killed two men, what right did she have to choose the fate of another? What right did she have to decide when Jason Madden died?

She stood there for a time, silent, staring at his face, her own soul screaming at her. After a time, she rested a hand on the release latch for the chamber. All it would take would be a quick twist of her fingers. The door would open, she would plunge her knife into his heart, and she would end it. It would be a mercy.

It would be murder.

The knife fell from nerveless fingers, clattering on the cold ground seconds before she fell to her knees, her head resting on the cold glass, her tear-streaked face inches from Madden's body.

"I can't… I can't…" She gasped out the words between hacking sobs, her heart breaking under the feeling of failure. "I'm sorry, Commander…

"I can't do it…"

She remained there for a long time, trembling on the floor, the only sound in the room the sound of her tears.

-----

There are levels to unconsciousness. In the deepest, darkest pits, there is nothing. No colour. No light. No thought. It is, in a way, the lightest touch of oblivion. Then, one becomes aware that they are surrounded by a murky haze as the mind begins to stir, rising uneasily from the depths, knowing nothing that is before or after, existing only in the moment. Memories slowly begin to trickle into primitive thought, thin shafts of light cutting through the haze as consciousness approaches, a drowning man struggling for the surface of the water, desperate for that first gasp of oxygen that waits at the destination.

The Changeling slept, surrounded by a sea of nothingness, his mind locked away from his body, trapped in an endless circle as it repeated the final moment before oblivion. The sea of memories surrounding him, the storm, a representation of the neural block in Alexander Carver's mind, raging just before his eyes. He drank in the memories like a tonic, absorbing every detail of Carver's life, his secrets, his lies, his hopes, his dreams. Everything became a part of Shade.

He had never seen the blow, recognizing it for what it was only when he collapsed into the waters around him, looking up to see Carver, his chest heaving with fury. Confusion had settled in at the sight, confusion that had struggled to make way for self-preservation as Carver had launched his attack, striking blow after blow as they approached the storm. And then...

Then he had awakened in his own body, unable to control himself as he had lashed out at the Jem'Hadar guards beside him, feeling the shocks as plasma had rained down on him, driving him into the darkness.

And yet... and yet even in the darkness, Shade knew instinctively that there was something different, something fundamentally wrong with his condition. Changelings... Founders... were not sentient in the same way as Solids. Their minds, while separate and distinct, had been linked together even before Augustus Raine had given them the ability to evolve into telepaths. The Founder race was a single entity, each separate member like a cell, each one a part that created the whole. They were each simply different aspects of a solitary mind, different facets of it's personality. Even in unconsciousness, Shade should have felt a connection to the rest of the Great Link.

But there was nothing except the darkness.

No. He was wrong. There was something else in the night, something that was beginning to stir, something that filled Shade with a sense of weariness, a sense of immense age, a sense of purpose...

And then it was gone, a whisper in the wind.

And so, Shade slept, surrounded by a nothingness that was no longer as complete as it had been before.

**----------------------------------------------- **

**Author's Notes:**

And we're back! Sorry it took so long everybody, but this chapter didn't want to come into being for some reason. Darn you, Jason Madden, for being so dang stubborn!

Anyway, rest assured that the next part of the story, _Homefires_, is already well underway. Six pages written so far. (Yay!) So it shouldn't be too long. Oh, I hope I didn't just jinx myself.

See ya in the black!


	25. Homefires, Ch 1

**NOTE:**

Hi everybody! Nope, I'm not dead, and yes, Dark Age is about to continue. But before we do, I have a few things that I'd like to say:

Why has it been so long since the last update? I heard a quote once that said: _The very best things happen just before the thread snaps!_ In the last few months, I learned that this is definitely true. You all know that I've been working seven days a week for almost a year now, and a couple of months ago I had a small breakdown. Nothing big, but I just couldn't bring myself to work on this story for a while. On top of this, I've also had two laptop computers stolen in the past three months. When I finally could even look at Dark Age again, I found that I had no idea where the story was going anymore. Things that had been crystal clear to me before were now completely fogged over. I had to back off and re-evaluate everything. Which brings me to our second question:

What's up with this chapter? Yes, Homefires was published several months ago, but I found that the sections with the crew of the Icarus just didn't work with the grand arc. So I rewrote it. The majority of this chapter is the same, but anything involving Alex, Selene and the others is new. I'm sorry I had to do this, but trust me, it'll all pay off in the long run.

But now I'm back, and hopefully things are going to continue smoothly from here on in. The next chapter is already three quarters written, and I hope to post it within the week. So here we go. Believe me, it feels pretty good to be stepping back into the final frontier...

**Homefires, Chapter One:  
**

"_May fortune favour the foolish."_  
-Adm. James T. Kirk_, "Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home" _

_-----_

From space, the planet was unimpressive, little more than a spherical block of ice with two small moons drifting in an orbit around a dim and distant star. No nebulas or quasars hung over it, their kaleidoscopic colours providing a break from the dull blackness of space. The only oceans that had once been visible from orbit had frozen over long ago, their icy surfaces almost indistinguishable from the snow covered continents. The planet was white on ivory, without even the break of clouds in the atmosphere to change the monotony that covered the sphere.

But it was not the planet that mattered, it never had been. It was what this tiny world represented to so many, what had happened on this world so long ago, and what was happening on it now, that was so dangerous. The world was the physical manifestation of an idea, and an idea can be more dangerous than any army that had ever been known.

And so, with thirty simultaneous flashes, a fleet of ships dropped out of transwarp and entered orbit, their dark green hulls reflecting the light shining off the snow far beneath them. For a long moment, they hung suspended over the small planet as their weapons came on-line, and then the bombardment began.

-----

Michael Chern pushed himself back to his feet, the dust in the air catching in his throat and forcing him to cough. He had been halfway to the sanctuary when the attack had begun, the sounds of torpedoes striking the snow outside echoing across the tall mountains, causing earthquakes and avalanches. It was only thanks to the sturdy construction of the temple and it's deep foundation in the mountainside that no one had died yet.

That didn't mean that the temple had escaped the attack without damage. One of the upper towers had collapsed, crumbling down on the rest of the building, destroying anything in it's path. Michael had been running through one of the many hallways beneath the tower when the ceiling had given way, rock and stone falling on top of him. Looking around himself now, he saw a jagged hole cut into the wall, the freezing air of the outside filling the hallway. In the distance, he saw dozens of jade green trails hurtling down, fire mixed with snow blossoming from their points of impact. It was as though the sky itself was raining green fire.

His teeth chattering, gooseflesh rising under the fur coat he wore, Michael climbed over the ruins of the hallway and ran for the large wooden doors, pushing them open as soon as he reached them. The sanctuary was warm, a large bonfire burning in the pit at the centre of the room, washing away the cold of the outside world. Dust filtered from the ceiling with every strike, the room itself shaking as though the walls of the temple knew that their ends were near. Hundreds of people filled the room, dozens of species represented in the huddled masses. Humans, Klingons, Andorians, Vulcans, Romulans, Bajorans... The list went on. Many of the people turned at Michael's approach, fear or anger evident in their eyes as he passed by them, his own eyes searching for a specific pair of women. Pushing his way through the crowd, he finally found them. A large Klingon and a tiny Vulcan stood near the mason wall, their heads bowed as they spoke quietly under their breaths, their expressions grim. Noting Michael's approach, they nodded and waved him over.

Michael bowed slightly, his hands clutched together as he breathed across them, trying to warm up. "T'Pren. Aayna."

The Vulcan observed him quizzically. "How many?"

"Thirteen capital ships, and assorted cruisers. Varying types, classes. All of 'em armed to the teeth and ready to get rid of us."

The Klingon woman growled, "There is no honour in this. It is impossible to defend ourselves. What honour lies in the slaying of a helpless opponent?"

"I dunno. I don't think that they particularly care, Aayna. They just want us dead and swept away." Michael scowled, "We have to use the _Hak'Tyn_. Get at least the children on board and away from here. The rest of us can hide in the caves until help arrives."

"Illogical. The _Hak'Tyn_ is unarmed, it would not survive long enough to achieve an escape trajectory."

"Then I'll fly escort! I'll hold them off long enough to make sure the kids get to safety."

Aayna frowned, "You would not survive."

Michael shook his head, "I know that. But we have to make sure the kids are safe. That's our main goal here, right?" he looked from one to the other, "Right?"

Neither of them looked happy, but both nodded. "Alright then." Michael removed a key from the chain around his neck, inserting it into a small slot in the stone wall. A few feet away, T'Pren did the same. "On three. One. Two. Three." Both keys were turned in their slots, and with a loud rumble, the stone wall gave way. Flickering lights activated, revealing a stairway that reached deep into the mountainside. Behind him, all of the people in the room turned at the sound. "Alright, everyone!" Michael had to yell to be heard, "This is how it's going to work! We adults are going to hide in the caves, but we're going to use the _Hak'Tyn_ to get the children out of here! We're going to send them to a secondary safe house! They'll be a lot safer there than we will be here! So everybody get down the stairs and let's load the kids up! Let's move!"

Slowly, muttering and arguing amongst themselves, the crowd began to filter through the doors as the sounds of the orbital bombardment grew closer. Waiting until the room was empty, Michael stepped through and sealed the wall behind him.

The descent into the mountain was long, the rough-hewn stone steps uneven and corroding with age. Michael lost his footing several times, having to hold onto the wall in order to stand upright. The further down he went, the colder it became, the chill of the surface permeating the rock that surrounded him. The crowd was descending slowly and carefully, not wanting to risk a full collapse of the staircase. He could hear children crying in front of him, screaming at the thought of being separated from their parents. He could hear adults whispering, wondering how they were going to survive in the caves after the bombardment ended. He saw T'Pren in front of him, her dark haired head held high as she made her way down the stairs, always cold, always practical. He could hear Aayna muttering to herself in Klingon. He didn't need to speak Klingon to understand what she was saying, the tone was clear enough. He wanted to tell everyone that it would be okay, that everything was going to be fine.

But he didn't have the heart to lie.

So he kept moving, not even looking back as he heard the temple disintegrate behind them, keeping his eyes trained forward until they reached the bottom of the staircase.

The _Hak'Tyn_ was a large, bulky transport ship, rectangular with two nacelles built directly into the ship's sides. A large and prominent jutted out from her forward hull, the curved bridge windows smeared with dust. She was ancient, but she still flew, and that was all that mattered. Parents began to walk their children across the gangplank into the ship, saying teary farewells as they ushered their offspring through the hatch. T'Pren stepped up next to him. "You are certain?"

Michael sighed, "Yeah. Yeah, I am. Wish I weren't, but.. hey, what can you do when you live in shoe?"

T'Pren looked up at him, an expression of confusion on her face. "I do not understand."

Michael laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. "I'll explain when I get back." T'Pren nodded, accepting the forced levity with grace, knowing that it was unlikely he would return. Smiling, Michael left the Vulcan behind and stepped up next to Aayna, who was watching the boarding with a scowl. "You okay?"

She growled, "This should not be happening, Michael. To murder combatants is one thing, but to murder children... There is no honour in this."

"They don't care about honour, Aayna. You know that." He crossed his arms, "So you're flying the _Hak'Tyn_?" She nodded, "Alright then. No heroics. No glorious fights. I don't care if I get shot down, you have to make it out. Got it?"

"I understand."

Michael turned and walked away, headed for a small shuttlecraft that was parked alongside the _Hak'Tyn_. Sitting down in the pilot's chair, he brought the systems on-line, watching as the shuttle shook itself to life. His heart was thundering in his chest, threatening to break through his ribcage. "It's okay. It's okay. I'll be okay." Michael swallowed, feeling the lump in his throat. "I'm just about to commit suicide, but, hey, I'm okay." Switching on the subspace radio, he spoke into the microphone. "_Hak'Tyn_, this is Chern. Shuttle reads ready for take-off."

"_Hak'Tyn_ stands ready."

The enormous doors at the far end of the cavern rumbled open, revealing the snow-covered mountains outside. Torpedoes still rained down from the sky, throwing snow into the air. Michael could hear the rumble from beside him as the _Hak'Tyn_ lifted itself into the air on it's repulsors, hovering several meters off the ground as her impulse engines warmed up. Tossing a quick salute to Aayna, Michael brought the shuttle's engines to full power, speeding through the opening and into the blizzard outside. The _Hak'Tyn_ followed him at a much slower pace, her bulk desperately trying to shrug off the planet's gravity. Michael settled into a flightpath directly in front of and above the _Hak'Tyn_, watching carefully as they ascended into orbit. As the white of the blizzard faded away into the darkness of space, he looked at the sensors. "Aayna. Look sharp. There's a ship on an intercept course."

"I see it."

"Get out of here. I'l hold it off." Peeling away from the freighter, Michael turned and saw one of the smaller ships turn in his direction, their weapons now aimed at him, rather than the planet. Throttling directly towards it, he came as close as he possibly could before he opened fire, the shuttle's weak phaser beams little more than bee stings to the large cruiser, but the point was that he was too close to the ship's hull to be fired at.

He danced the shuttle along it's course, taking out any targets of opportunity until he reached it's engines. Squeezing the trigger, twin phaser beams lanced out and pierced the impulse unit, shattering the ship's sublight engine. Spinning away, he risked a glance at the _Hak'Tyn_ and cursed.

Two more ships had approached from the other side and opened fire, the bright green beams of energy lancing across space towards the fleeing freighter. Aayna was throwing the _Hak'Tyn_ from side to side, ducking and struggling to dodge the attacks, but no one could avoid that much fire. The first phaser beam struck one of the nacelles, shorting it out, leaving the broken engine streaming warp plasma as the _Hak'Tyn_ began to spin out of control. Michael swore and accelerated towards the battle, leaving the damaged cruiser behind him. His fingers racing across the control board in front of him, he struggled to find the emergency communicator, punching it with his fist as soon as he found it. The shuttle began transmitting, his voice reaching across space on every channel, flooding subspace so that everyone could hear him. "Stop! That ship's filled with children! Don't...!"

Whether they would have fired anyway, or whether they had received the warning too late, Michael would never know. He only knew for certain what he saw.

The second phaser beam struck the _Hak'Tyn_ directly amidships, running straight through the freighter's hull and punching out the other side. It became the longest second of Michael's life, as the _Hak'Tyn_ hung suspended in front of him, no more than a kilometer away, every detail crystal clear as the green phaser beam continued on it's path. He could see directly through the hull breach, could see the stars shining through the other side. For a heartbeat, it looked as though the freighter would stay in one piece, even with the gaping hole in it.

Then it exploded.

She was ripped apart, fire burning for only a second as the oxygen in her decks was sucked away in the vacuum of space. It took less than three seconds before she was nothing more than drifting debris.

Michael screamed as he watched, unbelieving. So many young lives... all gone. Tears ran down his face, mixed of grief and anger. For a moment, he sat, screaming and crying, as the wreckage of the _Hak'Tyn_ bounced against the shuttle's hull.

Then he stopped, becoming very calm as he looked up, watching the debris strike the window of his shuttle, a sound like falling rain filling the cockpit. In the distance, he could see the cruisers that had destroyed the freighter turn towards him, their weapons powering up.

Grieve later, he told himself. Grieve later. Help now. Get help now.

Get help now!

Reaching for the steering column, he threw the shuttle into a hard climb, cutting directly through the heart of the attacking fleet, missing dozens of torpedoes by mere meters. It was like running an obstacle course, avoiding ships and weapons fire to emerge from the other side unharmed. As he burst from the top of the fleet formation, he swung hard to starboard, picking up speed as he raced away from the planet.

As the warp core cycled up, Michael sat, thinking. This had to end. They had gone too far this time. No more small fixes, no more stop-gap measures, he was going to find a way to end this, once and for all. And there was only one man who could do that.

Whether he would or not, that was different matter.

The shuttle jumped to warp, leaving the snow covered world of Boreth far behind.

-----

On the bridge of the command ship, Kaihl sat in his command throne, watching as his fleet struck at the world circling below. It had been a good day. The rebels were all down on the surface, trapped like voles, except for that single freighter and it's shuttle. "Report!"

One of his subordinates knelt before him, "My Lord. The freighter has been destroyed, as you commanded."

"And the shuttle?"

The subordinate scowled, "It has escaped, My Lord."

With a single stroke, Kaihl ended the man's life, driving a knife between his ribs and into his heart. No one on the bridge looked up from their stations as the man died. Standing, brushing himself off as though he had touched something dirty, Kaihl, Emperor of the Klingon Empire, Chancellor of the High Council, and Champion of the Klingon Arena, turned and left the bridge.

-----

_"On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair, warm smell of colitas rising up through the air..."_

The sound of the so-called "singing" drifted through the darkened hallways of the _Icarus_, bouncing off of the reinforced bulkheads and echoing from one end of the cargo ship to the other. No matter where they were, the crew glanced up at the warbling noise as one. In her sickbay, Nyssa winced as it assaulted her sensitive ears and clapped her hands to the sides of her head. In the dining room, Selene sighed and pinched her nose, figuring that the act may at least postpone the headache, while Kordath growled deep in his throat and struggled to concentrate on the dk'tahg in front of him.

_"Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light. My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night…"_

On the sound continued, seeping through walls, deckplates and circuit boards until it reached the very depths of the ship, the cargo bay. His fists clenched, Alex paused in his workout, reaching out and grabbing the punching bag on its swing back as his lips curled into a grimace. This wasn't the first time in the past three weeks that he and the crew had been forced to endure the torture. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block the music out, returning his attention to the punching bag.

_"There she stood in the doorway, I heard the Mission bell. I was thinking to myself, this could be heaven or this could be hell."_

_One-two. Left-right. One-two. Left-right. Don't listen don't listen don't listen..._ With a rhythmic pulse, Alex's fists hit the leather bag, his feet dancing around as the workout bag bounced back. The sound of flesh on leather filled the room, but no matter how hard he tried, Alex couldn't drown out words.

_"Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way. There were voices in the corridor, I thought I heard them say..."_

All through the ship, in the sickbay, the dining room and the cargo bay, four heads looked up and muttered as one "No no no…" And as one, their fears were realized as the sound actually doubled in volume.

_"WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA... SUCH A LOVELY PLACE such a lovely place… SUCH A LOVELY FACE! PLENTY OF ROOM AT THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA... ANY TIME OF YEAR any time of year... YOU CAN FIND IT HERE!"_

Sighing, Alex collapsed against the wall, hanging his head in his hands. Every day, every single day, it never changed. Oh, the song changed, yesterday it had actually been Janice Joplin's "Little Piece of my Heart", but the fact still remained that Tal was completely tone-deaf and could not carry a tune. As the pilot launched into the second verse, causing a groan that filled the ship, Alex picked up his towel and ran it through his sweat soaked hair. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he stretched, cringing as a muscle in his back started spasming. Tossing the towel aside, Alex stood up and padded out of the cargo bay, shutting down the overhead lights and closing the door behind him. Through the viewport on the opposite wall, he could see the swirling energies of warp space. They had been in transit for almost three weeks now, ever since their escape through the transwarp hub. After two days, their transwarp coil had failed, dropping them back into normal space and forcing them to continue under standard warp. A four-week trip from Earth to the Federation Remnant had suddenly become a month and a half trip. Not that Alex minded all that much. After all, he had six centuries of alternate history to catch up on.

Wrapping the towel around his neck, Alex passed in front of the doors leading into the dining room. Glancing inside, he could see Selene and Kordath seated at the table. His eyes quickly washed over Selene's laid back form, one hand resting over her eyes. With a small smile, Alex remembered how many times he had found his own Selene in much the same position after a long shift. It was amazing, really. His own Selene had grown up in a stable environment, with everything she could ever want while this Selene had grown up in a warzone, fighting for every little thing. For the both of them to be so similar... well, it certainly gave credence to the argument of nature over nurture.

Knocking on the doorjamb with a single knuckle, he poked his head inside to speak, but Selene cut him off before he could make a sound. "It's your turn."

"What do you mean, it's my turn?"

"I did it yesterday. Nyssa did it the day before, and Kordath the day before that. Your turn."

Alex stuck out his tongue. Without even looking up, Selene waved her arm at him, telling him in no uncertain terms to get moving. With a scowl, Alex turned and walked away, taking the long walk up to the bridge. Still, the din rebounded through the decks.

_"So I called up the captain, please bring me my wine. He said, 'we haven't had that spirit here since 1969…'"_

Nyssa came running through one of the hatches, her hands clapped against her pixie-like ears. Seeing Alex, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. Someone is going up there. Hit him once for me, huh?"

"You have to remember that the man flies the ship."

The Romulan smiled an evil smile. "Can't fly the ship if he's dead."

"I'll let him know that." Climbing the metal staircase that led up into the bridge, Alex winced as the singing got louder. Tal sat in front of him, lounging back in his chair, his hands swinging back and forth like a conductor in front of an orchestra. _"Wake you up in the middle of the night, just to hear them say-hay…"_

"Tal! Shut up!" Alex whipped the towel off from around his shoulder and threw it at the Bajoran pilot. The damp cloth struck him in the head, causing Tal to stumble and fall out of his chair. As the singing ceased, Alex heard a chorus of "thank yous" rising up from behind him, supporting by a deep voice saying "finally."

Muttering under his breath, Tal rose up from the floor. "Critics."

"Tal, who sang 'Hotel California'?"

"The Eagles."

"Well, let them sing it."

Tossing the towel back towards Alex, Tal readjusted his chair. "Critics. You're all critics. No taste for classical music." Alex chuckled under his breath and sat down beside the sensor suite, taking a quick moment to glance at the readings. Nothing special or impressive, just the usual mixture of particles and energies found in warp. Smiling, Alex turned back to Tal. "I love classical music. Soon as I hear some, I'll let you know."

"Ha ha." Tal turned around in his seat to glance back at Alex. "At least I'm not singing something like the Rolling Stones."

"Hey! The Stones are the very definition of classic! Their farewell album released in 2023 was one of the greatest albums of all time!"

"Not nearly as good as The Beatles' _Imagine._"

"_Imagine_ was done by John Lennon after he broke off from the Beatles."

Tal frowned, then angrily glanced up. "No fair! You have the Starfleet database in your head!"

"Yeah, makes it great for winning arguments. I can also tell you what year Mick Jagger was brought out of suspended animation…" _Icarus_ bucked, sending Alex and Tal flying across the bridge as the lights went out throughout the ship. Klaxons sounded, filling the ship with their shrill screams while Alex crawled back to his chair. Blood flowed from a gash across his forehead where he had struck it against the far wall. Behind him, the hatch swung open and Selene, Kordath and Nyssa ran through, each of them looking much the same as Alex and Tal, namely, banged up and bruised. Grasping one of the supports built into the bulkhead, Selene pulled herself into the room. "What the hell is happening to my ship!"

"Checking that now." Alex's fingers flew across the sensor console, futilely typing in commands before punching it in frustration. "I'm not getting anything here! It's like there's nothing out there!"

"I could have told you that." Nyssa pointed at the window. "Look outside. What happened to the stars?"

Glancing up, Alex did a double take. Outside the windows, the blue streaks of warp space had vanished, replaced by... nothing. No stars, no planets, just a vast black emptiness that seemed to stretch on forever. Behind him, he heard Kordath growl. Turning away from the windows, Selene glanced at Tal. "Can we move?"

The blonde pilot tapped at a few controls before shrugging. "We have thrusters, but it looks like impulse and warp engines are off-line."

"Alex?"

"All of the systems seem to be working. It's not internal. There's something... out there…" Alex waved at the window, "... holding us back. We're not stalled out, we're stuck."

As the words began to sink in, the five of them took in the emptiness outside, held at bay by the fragile hull of the ship. For a long moment, no one said anything, and then Tal spoke up.

"You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave."

And with Don Henley's immortal words drifting through the darkened bridge, they continued to stare.

-----

Aishwarya stood in the medical ward, staring at the frozen body of Jason Madden, her eyes nearly as cold as the stasis chamber itself. She had exchanged her red sari for a formfitting black dress with blue vest, her clothing reflecting the funereal attitude she had adopted over the past three weeks. Her dark hair was tied in a severe but elaborate bun at the back of her head, a pair of jeweled pins holding it in place. Everything about her appearance and bearing screamed control.

Better for people to assume she was what she appeared to be, rather than to have them realize that she was a mess of emotions.

Behind her, the door to the room irised open, admitting Rakiin, dressed in dark clothes just as she was. Aishwarya kept her face impassive as he stopped next to her, staring at the stasis chamber in silence. The change in her brother in the past weeks had been disturbing. Before his battle with Kordath, she had known that his control had been thin, little more than rice paper over the burning fire of his temper. She had known how far she could push him, where she could fool him, but now...

Rakiin rarely left his chambers now, and on the occasion that he did, Aishwarya could see the difference in her brother. He was calm. Staring into his eyes now was like standing in the eye of a storm, a total and perfect calm, but one that masked the coming thunder. It frightened her to a degree he never had. Rakiin had been dangerous enough before, but with true control over himself...

"You spend so much time in here, Sister. Why is that?"

Aishwarya refused to let him see her fear, keeping her eyes on Madden's body as she answered. "To see the future, perhaps." She shrugged, "The future... or the past."

Rakiin tilted his head, as though examining a piece of art. "I suppose the good Commander could be both. One of them, and soon to be one of us." He looked at her, and Aishwarya could feel his eyes searching. "We are the children of Humanity, Aishwarya. And children have always been meant to replace the parents."

"I understand that concept far better than you could ever imagine, Brother. Far better." Aishwarya turned and stared at him, her own eyes flashing. "You taught me that lesson long ago. What lesson are you trying to teach me this time?"

"That it is dangerous to become attached, Aishwarya. You never know when the betrayal will come."

"A dim view on the Universe, Rakiin." Aishwarya turned back to Madden. "But it has been proven true in our lifetimes, hasn't it? Betrayal comes from the most... unexpected... places."

Rakiin laughed at her thinly veiled jab. "Indeed it does, Sister. Father should have learned that lesson." He turned to leave, the door whispering open in front of him. As he made to step through, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "We will be arriving at Fatalis in the near future, Aishwarya. Until then, feel free to spend as much time as you wish here. I would hate to keep you from a piece of living history." And he was gone, leaving Aishwarya more frightened and more alone than she had ever been.

-----

"Well, what have you been able to figure out so far?"

Selene stood against the wall of the engine room, watching as Alex ran simulation after simulation at the main console, his face caught in the glow of the computer screen. Less than ten minutes after their arrival, Selene had decided that continuously feeding power to engines that didn't work was a waste of energy and had ordered the warp core and impulse drives shut down. No use spinning their wheels in the mud. That had been two hours ago. "Alex? Anything?"

Straightening up from his hunched over position, Alex turned towards her and rubbed his eyes. "Well, you have two options. The first is a long, involved, technical explanation that will clarify everything assuming that you wrote your graduating thesis on warp physics and their effects on subspace phenomena. The second is short and to the point."

"I'll take option two."

Alex shrugged. "We're stuck."

Selene sighed. Of all the times for the man to get a sense of humour... "Okay, find me an option between the technobabble and the smart-ass."

Alex nodded as he leaned against his console, and then lifted one hand, palm facing towards the ceiling. "Imagine that my palm is space. We exist along the surface, right? Now, in order to fly at warp speeds, we bend space slightly." His fingers curled upwards, not much, but just enough so that his hand now formed a small bowl. "What's happened here is that the subspace which we usually bend has curved too far, wrapping around us." His hand closed until he was holding his fist up in front of her. "Subspace has formed a bubble out of the area around us, and we're stuck inside."

"First question. How do we burst the bubble?"

Alex shook his head. "Still working on that."

"Second question. How did this happen?"

"Well, if it were natural, we would have had warning. Warp field destabilization, power fluctuations, things like that. There was nothing. One minute, Tal and I were talking about music, and the next we were pulled right out of warp. This isn't natural. It's a bear trap."

Selene shook her head, running a hand through her mass of black hair. "A bear trap?"

Alex nodded, "A bear trap. Hunters on Earth used to scatter these serrated clamps around in the wilderness. An animal would come wandering by, step on the trap, release the trigger, and boom." He clapped his hands together, "Trap would close and crush the animal's leg. It wouldn't be able to move."

Selene turned and faced the doors to the engine room, considering what Alex had just told her. For some reason, it sounded familiar. Something she had read about years ago… "A sinkhole."

"Yeah, I suppose you could call it that..."

"No. It's a sinkhole." Selene spun around, anxiety playing across her face. "That's what they called them during the war. The Khanate reprogrammed singularity bombs and sprinkled them throughout the galaxy. They'd do just what you said; warp subspace so that any ship that passed through would get stuck inside the bubble. Once it was stuck, it's power would run out, it would be completely cut off from supply routes... from the entire galaxy. The crew would either die in the transition back to normal space, or die when their power or supplies ran out."

"Take out an enemy ship without risking one of your own." Alex nodded, "From an engineering viewpoint, it's brilliant. From a personal viewpoint, it's cruel and unusual."

"Just like the Khanate." Selene sighed and leaned against the console. Beside her, Alex continued to stare out into space. "I don't remember hearing about any Federation ships ever escaping from a sinkhole. One minute they'd be there and the next... nothing."

"So for us to get out of here, you need a miracle."

She glanced up at him and smiled, "I keep asking you for those, don't I?" They stared at each other for a long second, and then burst out into laughter. Wiping his eyes, Alex chuckled, "I'll see what I can pull off."

"You do that." Pushing away from the console, Selene headed for the door. Sobering up, she looked back at Alex. "I mean it, Alex. If we can't figure a way out of this…"

"I understand. I've already got a couple of ideas but not much beyond that. What I was thinking was that we could..." A burst of static from the shipwide comm system interrupted him, drawing both of their eyes towards the sound. After a moment, Nyssa's voice filtered through the room. "Skipper? You and Alex might want to get up here. We've found something."

Glancing at each other, Selene and Alex ran from the room, their boots pounded on the metal grillwork of the _Icarus_' decks as they rushed to the bridge. Pulling herself up the staircase, Selene stepped through the hatch. "What's going on?"

"That is." Nyssa waved towards the bridge windows, urging Selene to take a look of her own. Outside, the pitch black of the Sinkhole had been replaced by what seemed to be a dark green construct that filled the view. Squinting, Selene stepped up to the windows, placing her hands against them as she tried to make out details. "What is that?"

Seated next to her, Tal grabbed the steering column and eased the _Icarus_ back. "Maybe it'll be easier to see if I do this."

_Icarus_ drifted slowly back from the emerald assembly, it's edges slowly coming into view as the small cargo ship gained distance. Before them stretched a ship that was easily ten times as big as _Icarus_, large wings swept forward like the wings of some enormous jade angel grasping pontoon like warp nacelles. A dull green glow emanated from the belly of the cruiser, the last remnants of her power illuminating her long crane-like neck.

A Romulan _Valdore_ class warbird hung in front of them; it's gargantuan form filling the windows.

Tal whistled, the sharp sound filling the room and causing everyone to turn and glance at him. The pilot shrugged, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Will you take a look at that?"

Alex stepped up to the windows next to Selene, his eyes roaming over the derelict warship. "She's beautiful. There's a bit of damage, a couple of hull breaches from what I can see, but still... Back in my reality, these things have been out of service for five and a half centuries."

"It's been even longer here." Nyssa's voice was strained, "After the Empire fell six hundred years ago, no more were built. A few were absorbed into the Khanate fleets, but they fell out of use a decade or so after the war."

Selene turned to Kordath, "Any indication of power over there?"

The Klingon consulted the tactical readout before shaking his head. "Minimal power usage only. Emergency batteries."

"Tal?"

The pilot glanced up at the sound of Alex's voice. "What is it?"

"Can you take us up? About five hundred meters. I think I saw something on the other side of that ship."

Tal looked at Selene for approval and she shrugged, watching as he fired the ventral thrusters, lifting the ship until they came to rest at a point above the _Valdore_, looking out over it.

The Sinkhole was filled with ships. Romulan, Federation, Klingon, Breen, all of them running on what appeared to be minimal power. A smile broke across Selene's face. "Look at that. A _Neghvar_, a wing of _Valdore_s, that's an _Akira_ class over there... It's an entire fleet!"

"I am registering twenty-seven vessels of various design." Kordath looked up from his console. "All of them dating from the Khanate War."

"There's a _Sovereign_ class over there in the middle." Alex pressed his face against the glass in an attempt to make out the lettering on the distant ship's hull. "USS... _Grissom_."

The name was like a thunderclap on the bridge. Within seconds, Selene had pushed Alex out of the way, trying to confirm it for herself. Seeing he was right, she backed away, laughing hysterically. "It is. It's the _Grissom_! We've found it! We've found it!"

Alex looked from one ecstatic face to the next, confusion written across his features. "Found what?"

Grabbing Alex by the shoulders, Selene pointed at the cluster of ships hovering just beyond her reach. "It, Alex. We've found it!

"We've found the Lost Fleet!"

As the rest of the crew celebrated, Alex stepped back to the window, his earlier wonder forgotten. Staring out at the Grissom, he muttered under his breath. "We didn't find it. We've joined it."

None of the others heard him.

-----

Thousands of light years away, deep within the heart of the Khanate Empire, an emerald flash broke the darkness of deep space as the lustrous black form of the _Gilgamesh_ emerged from transwarp. Before her lay an amber jewel of a world, surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands, of Khanate vessels, some even larger than Rakiin's cruiser itself. Once, the world had been green and alive, covered by lush rainforests and deep blue seas, but that had been long ago. Now, only the desert remained, bathing the surface in violent sandstorms that would strip the skin from a man's bones if he were foolish enough to stand in its way. The desert planet had once been a paradise, and now, it had become a very literal Hell.

But through their iron will and determination, the Khanate had begun to tame the planet to their desires, bending the awesome force of nature itself. Small wisps of cloud gathered in the upper atmosphere, water vapour where there had once been none. Tiny fields of green dotted the landscape, carefully maintained and protected agricultural zones that had been painstakingly grown.

As the _Gilgamesh_ approached, weapons platforms hanging in orbit turned and trained their deadly arrays on the cruiser, their electronic eyes ever alert and vigilant. An access code sang across the void of space to the platforms, the _Gilgamesh_'s roar of identification. Recognizing the black ship as an ally, the platforms turned away, but kept their sensors locked. They would fire at a second's notice, if the need arose.

With the knife's edge suddenness possible only in space, the _Gilgamesh_ cut across into the planet's far side, where its most distinguishing feature came into view. The lights of an enormous city, easily three hundred miles in diameter, shone out deep on one of the continents, fighting back the encroaching night. Built far from the roiling acidic oceans, the city of Fatalis was the heart and soul of the Khanate people, even more so than the sprawling shipyards of New Chrysalis. It was from here that the ruling council governed the fractious empire, maintaining a semblance of order amid the chaos. A group of men and women who had been trapped within the stone walls of the Holy City for so long that they had long ago lost any true concept of how the Universe operated, issuing proclamations only to have them mostly ignored. They were mostly figureheads, symbols to prove to the rest of the Galaxy that the Khanate were united.

Symbols are useful things, but it was beneath the Holy City that the true symbols, the true leaders, of the Khanate lay. The greatest leaders and warriors in their history, laid to rest in the dark catacombs of the original underground city of Fatalis. Alia's and Enkidu's bones, exhumed from their resting places on New Chrysalis and interred here, next to the preserved body of Augustus Raine, next to the memorial to Malik...

Next to the tomb of Khan Noonien Singh and Marla McGivers.

With a deadly beauty and grace, the _Gilgamesh_ settled into orbit of Ceti-Alpha V.


	26. Homefires, Ch 2

**Homefires, Chapter Two:  
**

"_Find the assassin. The Klingon who kills without showing his face has no honour. He must not lead the Empire. Such a man would be capable of anything."_  
-Supreme Chancellor K'mpec_, "Reunion" _

_-----_

_Twenty-Two years ago..._

The funeral was everything that one would expect for a Lord of the Khanate, a man who had led others in battle and controlled the destinies of millions of people across his territory. He had been a living god, like the pharaohs of Old Earth, and his death was a cause for mourning like the Universe had never seen. The entire city of Fatalis was cloaked in darkness and gloom, it's inhabitants dressed head to toe in black, their eyes downcast as the anti-gravity carriage made it's way slowly towards the entrance to the Old City. On the bier, dressed in his finest armour, a ceremonial sword clutched to his chest, Lord Adair appeared a figure of legend, a warrior stepped out of time immemorial to be interred among the greatest leaders the Khanate had ever seen.

He would have hated it.

Standing beside the carriage, Darius, Warmaster of the Khanate, frowned as he escorted his oldest friend to his final resting place, his mind churning as he clenched down on his anger at this spectacle Adair's funeral had become. It was true. Adair would never have wanted any of this. He would have wanted a burial in space, to join so many of the loyal soldiers he had sent to their deaths over the decades. Something quiet and private, only a few loyal friends and retainers present to see his body off on its final journey among the stars. A quiet, mournful reading. Shakespeare, maybe, or perhaps even Dylan Thomas. "Do not go gentle into that quiet night." That would have been appropriate. Adair would have liked that.

But now Adair had become a symbol, his corpse paraded in front of the entire Khanate Empire to be buried in the old underground city of Fatalis. Once there, anyone could go gawk at the tomb of the great Lord Adair, the man who could have become Khan if he had wished it, but turned down the throne. Would history view him as a great man, or as a fool? Darius couldn't say. How many of the Khanate would understand that it took a greater man to turn away from power than to grasp it? Not many, he'd be willing to wager. No, the Khanate had fallen from Enkidu's ideals. Enkidu, who even though he had grasped power over the dead body of his own brother, had done so hesitantly, for the good of his people rather than for his own ends. Yes, he had preached for war with the Federation, but what afterwards? Had Enkidu wanted the Khanate to fracture as they had, to become little more than wolves clawing at each other's throats for their own gratification? Of course not. The Khanate had been meant to be a greater man, a warrior poet bringing civilization where none had been before. Instead, civilization had descended into tatters, warlords ruling their own territories and snapping at any who encroached. This entire affair reeked of hypocrisy to Darius, crocodile tears and fake sympathies.

Before him, the entrance to the old city loomed, an enormous cavern that descended hundreds of feet into the depths of Ceti-Alpha V. It was here that Khan Noonien Singh had led his people during the cataclysm that had devastated the surface of the planet eight centuries ago. A cavern that had begun as little more than a desperate shelter, and now it was one of the holiest places in the Empire. Alia, Enkidu, Raine, all the greatest leaders were buried here. It was a great honour to be counted among them.

Still, the thought did little to brighten Darius' opinion.

Torches lined the walls of the tunnels, casting a dim light on the sombre procession as it continued down, passing tomb after tomb until they arrived at the place that had been set aside for Adair. Slowly, gently, the pallbearers placed his coffin inside the tomb, sealing him away for all eternity in a place he would not have wanted.

The funeral over, Darius spun and marched from the catacombs. He needed some fresh air.

-----

"It is with the deepest regret that I find that I must claim my father's throne as my own. As the eldest child of a Lord, I always knew that the heavy mantle of leadership would fall on my shoulders someday, but I never believed that it would be a day so soon.

"But fall on me it has, and I will do everything I can to be a Lord as great as my own father was. I will miss him, and I will miss his guidance, but as every child must, I will move on without him. But I take comfort in the knowledge that you, my father's closest advisors, stand beside me.

"But the assassin who claimed my father's life yet remains unpunished, his blood stained hands free. Before we can focus on the future, we must sever this last tie to the past. The assassin must be found and punished, his blood spilled in exchange for his actions.

"Investigation into my father's death shows that the weapon which struck the death blow belonged to a guard of Lord Vincent, a minor Lord who controls space on the very edge of the galaxy. Perhaps Vincent believed that with my father gone, he could claim our space as his own. We must show him that this will not happen.

"In two days time, the Lady Morrigan will arrive to sign a treaty joining her forces with ours before we strike at Vincent. Together we will crush the man who ordered my father's assassination and take his territory for our own. Only with this done, can my father's spirit rest in peace."

As the twelve year old boy claimed the throne, his counsellors began to applaud, chanting his name until the room was filled with sound. Silent and hidden in the shadows, Darius watched the boy's face. It was the face of a mourning child, a boy who had been forced to become a man before he was ready, but who was willing to live up to the challenge. It was the face of a consummate actor.

Darius had not become Warmaster by sheer talent alone. He knew how to read people, to sift through the lies and meaningless double-talk to see the truth and the larger picture. And now, in Adair's son, he saw the sparkle hidden behind the unshed tears, the slight twist at the edge of his lips, and he could hear the forced vibrato in his voice. The boy was not in mourning. He was happy to see his father dead. Whether he was simply taking advantage of a real plot or whether he had taken a more direct role in Adair's death, Darius didn't know.

All he did know was that there was a monster on the throne, and that he seemed to be the only one to see it.

Turning to leave the room, he listened to the sound of the future.

"Rakiin! Rakiin! Rakiin!"

-----

The young girl was sitting in the darkness of the room that had once belonged to her father, her tiny body curled up on the large bed clutching the pillow to her chest. For a long moment, Darius watched her, caught between letting her know of his presence and the desire to remove himself from the room, leaving her to her grief. In the end, his concern for her outweighed any thought of leaving.

"Aishwarya?"

The girl looked up, her dark eyes hidden behind streams of raven black hair, but even masked behind the tangled strands, Darius could see the tears on her face. How could two children raised by the same man be so different?

Kneeling beside her, Darius brushed the hair away from her face. "There, there. It's alright, Aishwarya. Everything will be alright."

"No, it won't." Her voice was strained with grief and shock, trembling as the sound emerged from her lips. "Nothing will be alright, Darius. Nothing."

As Aishwarya continued to weep, Darius thought about his suspicions regarding Rakiin. If Rakiin had killed Adair, what was to keep him from eliminating Aishwarya as well? The girl wasn't safe here, but then, she would never be safe anywhere. Taking her by the shoulders, Darius helped her to her feet. "Come with me."

Together, they left Adair's quarters and walked down the darkened corridors of the _Gilgamesh_. "We live in a dangerous world, Aishwarya, and I regret that you had to learn that the way you have. It is a hard lesson to learn, that violence is all around us our entire lives, from the moment of our births to the moment of our deaths. It infects our society and corrupts our souls. Some of us have a greater capacity for it than others, and we always walk the razor's edge between sanity and madness. There are those, like me, who use this 'gift of violence' to protect others. Our friends, our loved ones. But there are those who use it to their own ends, to gain power over others, and it is these that you have to be most careful of."

Slowing his pace, Darius turned the corner and stopped before a pair of large doors. Kneeling until he was at eye-level with Aishwarya, he continued. "These people may appear to be friends, lovers, or even family. And you have to be wary of them. In our world, trust can be as deadly as a knife. Do you understand?" Aishwarya nodded, her tear stained face serious. "I've known you your entire life, Aishwarya. I know you have your secrets, but I also know that you have a blessing that few Khanate have.

"You have no evil in your heart, and that is a great thing indeed."

Rising to his feet, Darius smiled. "People will take advantage of your good nature, they'll underestimate you. But they'll never realize that you are more powerful than they could possibly conceive." Pushing open the doors, Darius led Aishwarya into her father's library, spreading his arms wide as he watched her gape at the thousands of books around them. "To someone like you, Aishwarya, this room is the greatest arsenal you could imagine. Your father knew this, and he told me that he wanted this room to be yours someday. This... this is his way of protecting you."

Aishwarya laid a hand on one of the books, closing her eyes. "I miss him, Darius."

"I know you do, Aishwarya. I know. But he will never truly leave you.

"And neither will I."

-----

_Today..._

The cool desert wind blew across the sandy terrain far from the outskirts of Fatalis, casting rippling patterns across the rocky plateau as the ruins of Ceti-Alpha VI shone high above in the heavens. Light from the distant star reflected off the distant asteroids, creating millions of tiny moons above the desert planet.

Clad in desert gear, the small group of Khanate warriors trod carefully across the plateau, their eyes and ears sharp, searching for any hint of their quarry or of the ever dangerous Ceti Alphan Eel. Together, they marched, each one carefully searching for sure footing before continuing. The desert was full of dangers, especially at night.

Without warning, a figure exploded up from the sands at their feet, a long wooden staff clutched in its fabric wrapped hands. A series of quick thrusts brought three of the four Khanate to their knees before their assailant turned and launched himself off of the plateau, vanishing into the darkness. Alone and surrounded by the bodies of his companions, Avram, the last surviving member of the expedition spun in place, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow, watching for movement in the night. His weapon was held in his hands, the latest plasma rifle available. He had been told that if he aimed carefully, he could strike one of the starships in orbit, burning through its shields and cutting into its hull. But power like that had no use without a target.

In the distance, he heard a long howl. A Jem'Hadar hound, most likely. He refused to allow it to distract him. Without a second thought, he ran for the edge of the plateau, leaping off the bluff into the night beyond. He fell for a hundred feet, landing on the desert floor with a grunt before rising to his feet and scanning the horizon with his rifle. Nothing moved.

With a flick of his thumb, he activated the rifle's sensor package, turning in a slow circle and searching the dunes for his opponent. For a long moment, all was quiet except for the howling of the wind striking the high bluff behind him. _It's impossible_, he thought to himself, _no one can vanish like that. Not even him._

At the same instant that the rifle's sensors detected life, the robed figure exploded out of the shadows and struck, the simple wooden staff landing a solid blow on the rifle, sending it spiralling out of sight. Not to be outdone, the young Khanate pulled a blade from his gear and leapt at the blurring figure, bringing it down two-fisted. The figure side-stepped, driving a knee into his stomach and forcing him to drop the knife. As Avram rolled to the side, his prey snatched up the knife and flung it blade over pommel towards him. Wincing as the blade cut a path across his cheek, Avram reached out and grasped the handle of the rifle. Bringing it to bear, Avram aimed at the figure's head just in time to watch the other man's staff come crashing down towards his throat. They stood there, frozen in a bizarre tableau as they each appraised the other. "Yield." The figure shook its head, the bandages around its face dancing with he movement. Avram began to feel his temper rising. "I can shoot you before you can crush my throat."

The figure's shoulders began to move up and down. It was laughing at him! Dropping the staff, the figure reached up and began to pull off the bandages, exposing his features to the starlight. He was older, perhaps in his late seventies, with a long stream of greyish hair that stretched across his face in a neatly trimmed beard. Beneath the rags, he appeared frail, little more than skin and bones, but it was his eyes that dispelled that notion. Both of them burned more brightly than any flame. They were the eyes of a warrior, born and bred, forged in battle. They were the eyes of a legend.

With a laughing sigh, the old man pointed at a spot just above Avram's shoulder. "Look there." His voice was soft, the voice of a beloved teacher. Laying down the rifle, Avram rolled onto his side and came face to pincers with a Ceti Eel.

With a scream, he jumped back before noticing that the eel was dead, impaled with the knife the old man had thrown. Brushing himself off, the old man shook his head. "You were careless, Avram. Yes, you may have taken my life, but you would have paid for it with your own. " Lifting Avram's rifle, he examined it with a look of disgust. "Technology can only do so much. Khan Noonien Singh himself said, _'Improve a machine, and you may double productivity. But improve a man, and you gain a thousand-fold.'"_ Tossing the rifle at Avram's feet, the old man smiled. "Trust yourself first. Trust your machines second."

High above, a flash of green caught their eyes, pulling both of their gazes skyward. In orbit, a pale green star flared into existence for a brief instant, collapsing down to a bright dot that shot towards the planet before slowing into orbit. The smile on the old man's face grew even wider as he whispered to himself, "Welcome home."

Rising to his feet, Avram observed the old man. "Sir?"

"I'm pleased with you, Avram. You did quite well for your first test. It has been quite some time since someone your age has managed to last quite this long. Well done."

The young Khanate blushed a deep red at the praise. "Thank you, Sir."

"But now I believe we should collect your friends. I may have struck them a little harder than I had intended."

"Should we call for a retrieval team, Sir?"

The old man laughed, "Of course not! What did I just teach you about technology?"

"Trust yourself first."

"Exactly, and so we climb." And as Avram watched, Darius, once Warmaster of the Khanate, began to climb the bluff with an ease a man half his age would envy. Sighing, Avram tossed the rifle over his shoulder and followed.

-----

High above the surface, Aishwarya stood in the main transporter room of the _Gilgamesh_, her hands folded demurely in front of her as a team of nurses pushed Madden's stasis chamber into the room. Beside her, Rakiin watched as Madden's body was floated past on anti-grav repulsors, drifting to a halt in the centre of the transporter platform. Frost coated the glass enclosure, obscuring the Starfleet Commander's face from her view, but nothing could erase the man's anguish filled gaze from Aishwarya's memory. The knife she had carried for so long was gone was a dead weight around her waist, a Kraken pulling her down into the watery depths of her own despair. It was useless to her, an amalgam of metals without purpose. She had already proven to herself that she was incapable of using it when it mattered most, so why carry it?

Almost as quickly as the thought occurred to her, the image of a twelve-year-old Rakiin standing before her with blood-stained hands flashed before her mind's eye. Inwardly, she tensed, remembering the moment she had walked into her father's quarters to find her brother holding the bloody knife above their father's body. _He was a fool, little sister. He could have been great, he could have been Khan, but he lacked the ambition._

_And so you killed him? He was our father, Rakiin! He was our father!_

Rakiin had stepped over the rapidly cooling corpse and grabbed her arm, holding the knife at her throat. Her wide chocolate eyes had watched as her beloved father's blood had dripped from the edge of the blade to stain her dress. _Say nothing of this, little sister, ever. Because if you do, you will follow him. Do we understand each other, Aishwarya?_

Innocence was not something that was normally found in Khanate children, but as Aishwarya had looked up into the maddened eyes of her older brother, she had felt her expression harden. _Perfectly, Brother. I understand you perfectly._

_Good._ Dropping the knife, Rakiin had stepped back and looked down on their father. _It's a shame it came to this. I wish you could be there, Father, when I become Khan_. Wiping the blood from his hands, Rakiin had run from the room, an expression of horror growing on his face, screaming for help. Someone has murdered Lord Adair. Alone with her father's body, Aishwarya had dropped to her knees beside the knife, lifting it's blood soaked form and concealing it within her dress. As the tears began to fall, she had promised that someday, Rakiin would pay for this. Someday.

_Someday._

Casting a sidelong glance at Rakiin, she noted the sadistic amusement behind his eyes as he stared at Madden's ruined body. He was the reason she still carried the knife. He was the reason behind so much in her life. Someday, she would plunge that knife into his heart, avenging their father with the same blade that had killed him. Someday...

Rakiin glanced at her. "A problem, Sister?"

"Of course not, My Lord. Merely a foolish thought flitting across my mind."

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Rakiin stepped up towards the transporter pad. "If you say so." Together, the siblings positioned themselves on either side of Madden's body, a host of Jem'Hadar guards stationed around them. "Have you heard the news from the surface, Aishwarya?"

Not taking her eyes from the floor before her, Aishwarya shook her head. "I have been rather... occupied... the past few weeks. What news?"

With a smile, Rakiin nodded at the transporter technician, answering only as Aishwarya felt the transporter beam begin to take hold. "It appears that the Great Khan is rather ill. How unfortunate, hmm?"

As the world vanished into quicksilver shadows, Aishwarya's hand brushed the knife hidden beneath her clothes.

_Someday..._

-----

"Okay, would someone mind explaining to me just what, exactly, is the Lost Fleet?"

Alex realized that he had a lot to catch up on. Six hundred years of history was not exactly something that someone learned overnight. Oh, you could catch the general overview, like "The galaxy has gone to Hell in a handbasket", but the details tended to take a little more time. Of course, he could have just downloaded Icarus' main databanks into his nanites, but as his professors at the Academy used to say: _"That's the difference between simply knowing the material and understanding the material."_

Selene turned around and looked at him. "Sorry. I guess that I just keep forgetting you're not from around here."

"Well, that's okay, but that still doesn't tell me anything."

Selene shrugged and sat down at the sensor station, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the bucket seat. "When Earth fell to the Khanate, the Federation as a political force ended. All of a sudden, all those thousands of worlds had no actual governing body and everything fell into chaos. It was just what the Khanate had wanted. All of those star systems, just waiting to be claimed."

"But the thing was, they still had one enemy left: The Romulans." Nyssa picked up where Selene left off, slouching against the rear bulkhead. "The Star Empire had barely been touched during the war, even though we had thrown in with the Federation and the Klingons. Because of that, after the Battle of Earth, the remains of Starfleet brought their top project to Romulus:

"The latest _Enterprise_, a warship that would be able to hold her own against the Khanate."

Alex nodded and looked at Selene. "I've heard this before. The recording we heard back in San Francisco, in the mainframe room."

"That's right. Admiral Bill Hutten, one of the great heroes of the Khanate War. Last thing he did before he died was send the _Enterprise_ into hiding until she could be finished.

"Thing was, the Khanate turned towards the Empire. It took them almost two years, but they reached Romulus anyway."

Tal waved for attention from the pilot's seat, "_Enterprise_ was just about done when the Khanate fleet entered the system. On one side, Augustus Raine and the _Helen of Troy_, leading a hundred fully armed and fully manned Khanate destroyers. On the other, Subcommander Toval and the _Enterprise_, defending the system with forty undermanned ships from a dozen races. It should have been a disaster."

"It was a glorious battle." Kordath's eyes danced at the image, "For three days, the skies over Romulus and Remus burned as the fleets clashed, fighting for the fate of the people on the planets below. _Enterprise_ led the charge under Toval's command, cutting a path through the Khanate ships. They had not been expecting such resistance, and so they faltered.

"But all battles must end."

Selene stretched, rubbing the back of her neck as she continued. "After three days of fighting, the Khanate managed to get past Toval and attack Romulus. Every ship in the defence fleet had been boarded, millions were dead, everyone knew that they'd lost. But Toval still didn't give up. _Enterprise_ had been severely damaged, weapons gone, warp drive off-line. All she had left was her transwarp core.

"So he deactivated the inertial dampeners and made a transwarp jump."

Alex flinched. You didn't have to be an engineer to understand what Toval had done. Without the dampeners to protect the crew, anyone on board when it made the jump would be crushed under the pressure. "He killed everyone on the ship."

"Not just his. He'd slaved the controls of the entire fleet into _Enterprise_'s navboard. When he jumped, the fleet jumped with him. All twenty-nine ships whose engines were still online, crushing every boarding party the Khanate had sent. It wasn't a move designed to win the battle. It was an act of spite."

Nyssa looked up from her corner. "With no one to control them, the ships just vanished, never to be seen again."

Alex looked out the window. "Until now."

Selene stood and stepped up next to him, "I always wondered what had happened to them. Did they fly into a star? Were they still out there, still flying at transwarp? And now we know. They hit a sinkhole and got trapped."

Alex tapped a finger against his leg, his mind running through the new possibilities that this discovery unveiled. "I wonder…"

"You wonder what?" Tal frowned up from his chair.

A plan was quickly forming in Alex's mind. "Do you think that there might still be some torpedoes over on one of those ships?"

Kordath shook his head. "Doubtful. They vanished at the end of a battle. Their weapons are most likely depleted."

"I wouldn't need a live one. Just the casing would do. That and the singularity core from one of the warbirds."

"What are you thinking, Alex?"

A grin spread across the engineer's face that even the Cheshire cat would be proud of. "I've got the urge to go shopping. What about you?"

-----

Aishwarya and Rakiin rematerialized in the middle of an enormous courtyard, tall stone towers rising up all around them. Dust and sand spun around the polished rust-coloured stones in miniature whirlwinds, picking at Aishwarya's dark dress even as the cool night winds picked at her elaborate hairstyle. High above, the shattered remains of Ceti Alpha VI reflected baleful light down on the courtyard while, in the east, the first hints of dawn could be seen on the horizon.

Standing in front of the north entrance, two fully armoured guards stood at rapt attention, their eyes fixed on Rakiin's tall form. Both men were easily six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders framing muscular chests. With a cautious eye, Aishwarya studied them, paying close attention to the weapons strapped across their backs and affixed to the waists. The hilts of each weapon were filigreed in gold and scarlet, colours which matched the sashes which cut across their chests.

The Council Guard.

The guard on the right stepped forward, his pace precise, the sound of his feet striking the stone echoing through the predawn air. His dark eyes were fixed on Rakiin, the expression on his dark-skinned face completely unreadable. With a final click of his heels on the ground, he came to a stop before her brother. "Lord Rakiin?"

Rakiin was a tall man, but even he had to look up at the guard, annoyance crossing his face. "Yes?"

"You'll come with us, Sir. The Lady Morrigan wishes to see you."

"Very well." Rakiin turned to Aishwarya. "You'll see to the Commander, Sister?"

Aishwarya nodded, "Of course, Brother."

With a sharp acknowledgment, Rakiin followed the guards out of the courtyard, leaving Aishwarya alone with the Jem'Hadar and Madden. With a long sigh, she glanced around, taking in the buildings all around her. A deep sense of unease began to settle in her stomach, setting her nerves on edge. This place had once been home, her father's estate. She should feel safe here.

So why did she feel as though she was standing in a pit of vipers?

Shaking off her anxiety, she waved the guards forward, watching as they marched Madden's chamber into the estate. Resolutely, her head held high, she followed, guiding Jason Madden into hell.

-----

Rakiin stood inside the main hall of Morrigan's estate, a large building close to the centre of Fatalis. Ornate tapestries hung from the walls, their three story lengths reaching from floor to ceiling. Artwork from dozens of cultures stood proudly on display throughout the room, including a rare intact Kurlan _Naiskos_. His hands clutched behind his back, Rakiin absently examined the artefact, more for the sake of having something to do than out of any genuine interest. He could care less about the primitive carving, that was more Aishwarya's field. His interest in the carving was the same as that of the woman who owned it. Twenty-two years ago, Morrigan had killed Lord Victor and taken the _Naiskos_ as a trophy, much as a hunter would mount the head of their prey on the wall. A small smirk touched Rakiin's lips as he remembered that day.

"Pleasant thoughts, Rakiin?"

Rakiin's smile turned grim as an old woman came into view, her body concealed by a dark, feathered cloak draped over her shoulders. Easily in her mid-hundreds, she moved slowly, as though each step filled her with great pain. A thick white braid fell down her back, tied with elaborate leather straps, while her right hand clutched a gnarled walking stick. Slowly, the Lady Morrigan approached, her green-eyed gaze as always cutting straight through him. "Remembering other times, My Lady." Bowing, Rakiin grasped her withered hand and lightly brushed his lips across it.

Pulling back her hand, the old woman turned and walked towards a chair, wearily settling into it. "I hear that you have returned home with a new acquisition, Rakiin." Damned spies. She had them everywhere. "A man from another reality. How fascinating."

Crossing his arms across his chest, Rakiin frowned. "I needed a new commander."

"Yes, yes. Poor Herma'Taklan. A shame that such... devotion... is to be wasted."

"I have plans for him."

"I would imagine you do. I taught you far too well for you to toss aside any resource."

_A resource such as yourself, old woman_. Rakiin thought, visions of the day in which he could finally be rid of Morrigan dancing through his mind. "I assume you summoned me here for a reason, My Lady. Some cause other than a simple... chat."

"So I did, Rakiin." Standing, Morrigan approached him, her hunched form forcing her to gaze up at him through slitted eyes. "I am sure that you have heard by now of the Khan's condition."

"I know that he is ill, possibly near death." Rakiin paused, "And what is such news to mean to me?"

Morrigan smiled, a hideous expression to his eyes. "Every member of the council knows of your ambitions."

"Every member of the council shares them." Rakiin settled into a chair facing her, a wry smile on his lips. "Such a shame that all of the Khan's children are dead. Perhaps that is what ails him. A broken heart."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her hands clutched over the top of her cane. "Yes, it was tragic. Although how an antimatter bomb could have passed through the perimeter of the Khan's residences, killing all eight of his children and his wife, remains a mystery."

"Perhaps some mysteries will never be solved."

A snarl formed on Morrigan's lips. With a sudden movement, she rapped the bottom of her cane against the tiled floor, producing a ringing noise that sounded through the house. Instantly, a door on the far end of the room swung open, admitting a young woman who rushed to Morrigan's side. Rakiin examined her appreciatively as she bent over to conduct a hushed conversation with the old crone. She was in her mid to late twenties, a decade younger than himself at most, with a lithe figure, red hair spilling over her shoulders and across the simple black bodysuit she wore. A new acquisition for Morrigan's staff, he assumed. He had already met, and seduced, the majority of Morrigan's female servants. For him not to know that she had a new servant, and especially one this beautiful, was simply a sign of how long he had been away from Fatalis_. No matter_, he thought as the young woman rose to stand beside Morrigan, _she'll be mine soon enough._

Morrigan noted his gaze. "Do you see something you like, Rakiin?" When Rakiin didn't answer immediately, she waved towards her servant. "She's yours. Moira?"

Moira curtsied and stepped across the floor to stand at Rakiin's side. Rakiin grinned, "Thank you, my Lady."

"I had already planned to give her to you. Now, to return to the business at hand…" Morrigan produced a small holo-emitter, it's small round surface glowing a brief gold as photons danced above it, resolving into a three-dimensional picture. Rakiin's eyes widened as he saw a tiny representation of himself, standing before a member of the Council Guard, a small antimatter bomb in one hand.

_It is not to be seen, or heard. Do you understand?_

The guard nodded, _I understand. And my payment?_

_Your payment will be delivered on my ascension. The colony of Torgus II, yours to do with as you wish. Do we have an agreement?_

Rakiin growled as he lunged for Morrigan, his hands reaching for the holo-emitter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of silver and suddenly there was a knife at his throat.

Moira stood behind him, her elegant features stretched in a grin as she casually held a small dagger against his jugular vein with just enough pressure to produce a single drop of blood on the otherwise stainless blade. With her free hand, Moira brushed a stray hair away from her eyes. "We'll have none of that, My Lord."

"Apparently not." Rakiin sat back down, one hand rising up to wipe away the small drop of blood staining his neck. As Morrigan cackled, Rakiin found that his opinion of Moira was actually increasing. "Quite the acquisition you have made here, Morrigan. Beautiful _and_ deadly. An… interesting... combination." Leaning back into his chair, Rakiin studiously avoided looking at the holo-emitter. "But tell me, why would I bring home a gift that I know is as likely to slit my throat as share my bed?"

"Because you have no other choice." Morrigan turned the holo over in her hands, her old eyes fixed on it. "Assassination is nothing new, Rakiin. In our society, it is more than forgivable, it is often expected. A well-timed execution, and everyone benefits. The high rise higher, and the low are no longer quite so low. This is what it means to be Khanate, to achieve power through any means. Subordinates kill their superiors…" A glance. "Sons kill their fathers.

"And yet, an ill-timed assassination is not quite so easily forgiven. How unfortunate for you that the Khan had been called away from his residences that morning. Were it not for his sudden crippling illness, that handsome head of yours might no longer be attached to your shoulders."

Morrigan's insinuation rattled him, "You poisoned the Khan?" A shrug. "Why?"

"Not for you, my dear boy. Of course not. Rather, I did it for my own purposes." Morrigan tapped him with her cane. "We are going to come to an agreement, you and I."

"Blackmail." Rakiin scowled, "Almost as expected as assassination."

Moira laughed from behind him. "Perhaps there is more to you than looks, after all."

Rakiin tensed to strike her, but the memory of her speed with the knife flashed through his mind. "Quite the mouth for a serving girl." Moira shrugged, a grin twisting her lips. Rakiin turned back to Morrigan. "And what is this agreement you expect to make?"

"One which I am sure you will find to be most beneficial. I will place my forces at your disposal. I will do whatever I can to help you become Khan. You will have everything you ever desired."

"I'm not foolish enough to believe that none of this comes without a cost. What would you wish in return?"

Morrigan paused before continuing. "The throne."

Rakiin laughed. The old woman had finally, finally, gone insane. "The throne? Do you expect to become the power behind it?"

"In a manner of speaking. The merger of our forces will be... familial, as well as political."

A feeling of unease gripped Rakiin as he stared into the old woman's green eyes. He did not like the path that this discussion was following. "How do you mean, familial?"

"You will marry my granddaughter, merging our families and making her your queen."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you're not a fool, Rakiin. As I said, an ill-timed assassination is not quite so easily forgiven. The Khan still has loyal supporters, who would be most displeased if evidence indicating your involvement with his family's death were to be revealed."

"And what of your involvement?"

"The word of a proven assassin against mine? I have nothing to fear or lose, while you on the other hand…" Morrigan raised a mocking eyebrow. "Need I continue?" Rakiin remained sullenly quiet, recognizing an unwinnable situation when he saw one. "Besides, this arrangement may not be as undesirable as you seem to believe."

As if on cue, Moira stepped away from Rakiin's side, coming to a stop at Morrigan's side. Twin pairs of bright emerald eyes watched him from across the room. Rakiin sighed, accepting that he had no choice in this matter. Standing, he took Moira's hand. "My Lady."

As Morrigan watched, Moira smiled and accepted it.

"Husband."

-----

With an annoyed scowl, Aiyal stepped away from the softly glowing observation table, moving back from the project that had occupied every second of his time since arriving three hours ago, his analysis complete.

Taking note of the darkly clad figure hovering at the edge of the room, partially hidden in the shadows, he frowned. Without moving out of the darkness, the figure spoke. "Your report, Doctor?"

"The damage is extensive. The energy from the pulse rifle blast went clean through the chest cavity, fusing his spine. Also, the stasis field was not exactly forgiving. There is significant neural degradation. His short-term memory has suffered extensive damage."

"Will he survive?"

Aiyal shook his head. "No. Not in this state. At this point, I believe that cloning and neural transduction is the only option."

Stepping out of the shadows, Aishwarya stared down at Jason Madden's broken body and again cursed herself for being weak.

"Do it."

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Stupid chapter. Had to enter it onto twice.


	27. Homefires, Ch 3

**Homefires, Chapter Three:  
**

"_They're not just names, it's important we remember that. It's important we remember_."  
-Capt. Benjamin Sisko_, "The Siege of AR-558"_

_-----_

He sat in the middle of the darkened bridge, framed by the high back of the command chair, listening to the silence that pervaded the ancient starship. Alone but not alone, he remained unmoving, surrounded by the ghosts of the past, the disembodied souls that had haunted him for so long.

_Shields are down!_

_Intruder alert on deck sixteen!_

For a time, he had tried to repair the ship, a near-impossible task even for him. But after nearly a century faced with the darkness of the void and the depth of his own guilt, he had set down the hydrospanner in his hand and made his way to the bridge, seating himself in the centre chair and closing his eyes, his perfect memory replaying every second of that final battle.

_They're powering weapons! _

_Bring us about one-eight-zero-seven-five, target their disruptor banks. _

_Phasers and torpedoes are off-line! _

_Captain! They're firing!_

Still the dead whispered to him, their phantasmagoric forms still manning the posts where they had died, trapped in those last fateful moments. His own lips moved silently in time with their words, each nuance of their speech, each breath, each pause burned into his mind.

_What have they done... God..._

_How many...?_

_Millions... My God... How could they... Why...?_

A torpedo had crashed through the hull then, tearing apart systems, bulkheads and people with equal impunity. An unstoppable juggernaut, it had ripped diagonally through the saucer section, beginning just in front of the bridge and emerging above the deflector dish, overloading every power conduit on the ship. The OPS board had exploded in a shower of fat sparks, killing the young Acamarian manning it and flinging his corpse across the bridge to crash against the XO's seat. As the bridge lights had flickered and died, a low hum had begun to reverberate through the ship.

_What's going on? What's happening?_

_The transwarp drive is coming on-line. _

_What the...? Our inertial dampeners just failed!_

_Bring them back up!_

_I can't! I'm locked out!_

He had jumped to his feet then, tearing across the bridge and pushing the lieutenant at the engineering station out of the way. His fingers flew across the panel, desperate to reactivate the ID Field before the ship made the jump to transwarp. There was barely any power available, most of it being diverted to the engines. It was impossible to save the entire ship, but there was enough to save those on the bridge. As the transwarp drive flared, sending the ship rocketing millions of times faster than the speed of light, he raised the field around the bridge.

The crew trapped below didn't even have time to scream.

Hours later, life support had failed, killing everyone on the bridge save him, their accusing eyes locked on him.

And so he had lived, had seen the fleet become trapped in the Sinkhole, had watched the _Enterprise_ continue on unabated, missing the edge of the subspace bubble by less than a hundred kilometres, had become trapped himself, the only one left alive in this ghost fleet.

And so he sat, surrounded by his ghosts, surrounded by his guilt, surrounded by the completely and utterly unchanging nature of his world.

Until it changed.

-----

"So..."

Selene strained to look over her shoulder at Alex, who sat behind her in the cramped confines of the Icarus' tiny shuttlepod. The small craft lacked even a viewport, relying instead on sensors to enable the pilot to steer. "So."

An awkward silence hung between them for a long moment, punctuated by the occasional beep from the consoles. Selene bit her lip as she turned her attention back to her screen, annoyed with herself for being unable to carry on a one on one conversation with the engineer if their lives weren't in immediate danger. It was stupid, really. Stupid and foolish. What exactly was she afraid of? It wasn't like either of them could say anything that would beat the awkwardness of "_Hey, you used to be my wife in another reality_." Yeah, that was awkward. What could beat that? I mean, come on. It wasn't like she was about to tell him she thought he was cute... Oh, god, did she actually just think that? That was so incredibly teenage angst. She was an adult, now. She should be more mature than that. Cute? I mean, yeah, he had the brown eyes and the whole "knight in shining armour" thing going for him, not to mention the fact that he was kind of damaged was sort of interesting and….

Oh, I am just gonna shut up now, and how long until we reach _Grissom_?

"About five or six minutes."

Selene started at Alex's answer. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Uh-huh."

"Huh." Damn it damn it damn it. What else did she say? Thinking back, she heaved a quick sigh of relief when she realized that she hadn't said anything else in that train of thought out loud. "So what?"

"What?"

"You said 'so', Alex. 'So' what? What did you want to ask?"

"Oh, that." She heard Alex shift in his seat behind her, fiddling with the console beside him. "It was nothing, really. Not really."

"Oh." Okay, she had been wrong. It was possible for things to get more awkward. For a second, she half wished for something to go horribly wrong just so that this moment would be over. Then her senses returned and she made quick and fervent apologies to whatever deity may be listening for that last wish. She didn't want any of that 'careful what you wish for' crap. "No, you know what? What? What were you going to ask?"

"It was nothing, really. I was just... curious about something."

Selene's awkwardness was beginning to transform into irritation. "What? Will you just ask already?" God, the man could be so annoying.

"Fine! I just wanted to know... how many people died would've died on the _Grissom_?"

Selene bit off a laugh at the ridiculous question, feeling the tense air in the shuttle evaporate. "That's it?"

Alex shrugged, "Told you it was a stupid question."

Sighing, Selene frowned as she realized that she was slightly disappointed that he hadn't asked her something more personal. _Now, what's_ that _about?_ "No one really knows how many died. There was never an accurate body count after the battle of Romulus. Some say it was in the hundreds of thousands, and others says it was somewhere closer to the millions. As far as how many died on each ship, the answer of 'everyone' has always kind of put the point across."

"Huh." Alex returned his own attention to the console beside him, letting the quiet descend once more. Frowning as Selene turned around again to face the pilot's station, he cursed at himself. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn't as though he'd needed some disaster to spring up every time he'd wanted to talk to his own Selene. No, he'd gotten along just fine with her. Okay, sure it had taken him four months to ask her out initially, but after that...

Huffing out an annoyed sigh, he blew his bangs away from his eyes, absent-mindedly checking the readout for the distance to the _Grissom_. Another four minutes. Great.

Selene was a mystery to him. One minute he had no problem distinguishing between her and his own Selene, to be her friend and nothing more, and then the next he half expected to see a ring on her finger. Those were the more dangerous moments. They were the times when he forgot himself, was tempted to imagine that none of this had happened, that he would wake up in his own bed to see that familiar mass of brown curls. He couldn't allow that to happen. No matter how much he seemed to adapt, to gradually begin to fit in on the _Icarus_, he always knew it wasn't home. Insanity was a mere hair's breadth behind him, and no matter how hard he tried, he was never more than a stray thought away from it.

In front of him, Selene spoke. "Coming up on the _Grissom's_ shuttlebay."

Pushing his thoughts aside, Alex focused on the approaching starship.

-----

"So... What do you think they're doing over there?"

Nyssa glanced over at Tal as they stood in front of the windows, watching the tiny shuttle disappear around the damaged hull of the _Grissom_. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on! You're trying to tell me you haven't seen it?"

Nyssa chuckled as she shrugged, imagining the Skipper and Carver stuck in an enclosed space together. "There's probably a lot of tension."

A grunt sounded from behind them, grabbing both of their attention. Kordath stood from his station and walked down the steps to join them. "Do we not have a mission to complete?"

Muttering under his breath, Tal went back to his station and plopped down in his seat, guiding the _Icarus _away from the Federation cruiser. Sidling up next to Kordath, Nyssa pitched her voice low enough so that Tal couldn't hear. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one who suggested they go on this mission together?"

Kordath grunted again, but Nyssa was certain she saw a smirk on the old Klingon's face. Patting him on the shoulder, she turned and walked away. "That's what I thought."

-----

They had come back. They'd made it aboard once again. Six hundred years or six hundred minutes, it made no difference to him. They had boarded his ship, had infiltrated the shuttlebay and were no doubt on their way here.

For the first time in centuries, he moved, his right hand grasping the armrest so hard it creaked, his fingertips digging into the leather.

Their persistence was to be commended, but that would not stop him from doing what he had to do. The crew complement of his ship had been one thousand and thirty two at the beginning of the battle, six hundred and nine by the time the transwarp drive had come on line. He was the only survivor. The only one left.

Rising slowly to his feet, he lifted the phaser rifle that was leaning against his chair and clutched it in his arms. Flipping it over, he checked the power gauge.

Full charge.

Turning on his heel, he stepped onto the raised third tier of the bridge and headed for the starboard turbolift, moving stiffly. Behind him, the ghosts urged him forward, screaming for revenge. The Khanate had tried to take this ship once before and failed, and they would not succeed this time either.

Prying open the lift doors, he entered the empty shaft and began his descent.

His war was not over yet.

-----

Half hidden in the darkness of the corridor, his face washed in the red glow of the dim emergency lights, Alex tried not to think about what had happened on this ship. As he and Selene crept through the abandoned _Grissom_, the air stale and barely breathable, he did everything he could to detach himself from the past all around him and to focus solely on the mission. Get the torpedo casing, maybe a few other parts, and leave. Simple.

Unfortunately, it was kind of like telling a little kid, '_Don't think about pink elephants._' No matter how hard the kid tried, they would immediately picture a big, fluffy pink elephant.

With a groan, the deck tilted beneath his feet, the artificial gravity shifting slightly. Alex stumbled, reaching out with his right hand to steady himself against the bulkhead. Glancing down the length of his arm at his hand, he jumped back, almost as though the wall had bit him.

A few steps ahead, Selene jumped at the movement, the tricorder she held dropping from her hands and landing with a clatter on the deck. Scowling, she turned on him, "What's your problem? You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Alex looked up at her as he wiped his hands on his jacket. "Do you have any idea what's on these walls?"

Selene shrugged and lifted her hands in a 'what's the big deal?' fashion. "Dust?"

"The crew."

Her face wrinkled in a look of disgust as the idea caught up with her. "Oh, gross. Thank you _so_ much for that image. I really needed that today."

"Sorry."

Shaking her head, Selene turned back around and kept moving. "Can we just get off this ship as soon as possible, please?"

"No argument from me." Checking the schematics, he pointed down an adjacent hall. "Torpedo maintenance is this way."

"Right." Together they made their way down the corridor, taking extra care now not to touch the walls if it could be helped. After a moment, Alex opened his mouth to speak.

"If you say 'so', I'll shoot you in the foot."

Alex shut his mouth.

A couple of minutes passed in silence, each of them sneaking glances when they thought that the other wasn't looking. The awkwardness from the shuttle ride had returned in full force, making every second that went by seem like an hour. As they stopped to pull open a sealed door, Selene frowned. "It's weird."

"What's weird?"

She stopped and crossed her arms, tilting her head as she considered whatever problem she had noticed. "The damage on the outside was fairly extensive, right? That wasn't just me imagining things?"

"That's right. A lot of hull breaches."

"Then why isn't there any debris in the corridors? Any damage to the walls? And why are all the secondary systems still running?"

Alex frowned, "That is a good question."

Arching an eyebrow, Selene glanced back down the corridor. "Yeah, I'm starting to get a little creeped out here. This is getting to be a little too haunted house for my tastes."

Alex shrugged, trying to dispel the foreboding feeling in his gut. "Probably just automated repair systems. Six hundred years, and even they should have the ship fairly well repaired."

"Right."

"Right."

"Nothing to worry about."

"Absolutely nothing."

They both froze, listening for any sound that would indicate that they weren't alone. When neither of them heard anything, they both heaved a sigh of relief and began laughing. Selene dismissively waved her hand. "We're being ridiculous."

"Yeah, ridiculous."

"It's not like this is some sort of horror holo."

"No. I mean, if it were, something would be stalking us by now."

"Exactly. It's just a... creepy old ship."

"Right. Creepy old ghost ship."

A creak sounded from down the corridor, making both of them jump. Glancing back they way they had come, they stopped laughing. "Uh... let's get that torpedo casing."

"Yeah. Let's."

With a final tug, the door hissed open, and they nearly fell over each other trying to rush through.

-----

With a creak, the turboshaft doors opened onto deck sixteen, scarlet light spilling into the narrow space. They were close. The tricorder in his hand showed them standing at an access port not two hundred meters away, the symbols representing their life signs moving toward torpedo maintenance. He could hear them, every sound they made resonating down the corridor.

_Creepy old ship._

_Right. Creepy old ghost ship._

Dropping onto the deck, he sidled up against the wall, his right hand activating the computer interface behind him. Quietly, his fingers danced across the panel, activating subsystems that had lain dormant almost as long as he had. His face grim, he brought the transporter systems on-line...

And trained them on the intruders.

-----

Alex stepped quietly into the darkened maintenance bay, a scowl crossing his face as he took in the sight of the half-dozen partially disassembled torpedoes lying in metallic racks against the walls. "Oh crap."

"What?" Selene pulled herself through the door, cursing as her coat caught on the doorframe.

"The only torpedoes left have been taken apart. Damn it."

"I thought you said that you only needed the casing."

Sighing, Alex reached into the depths of one of the torpedoes, pulling out the pieces of the guidance assembly. Random isolinear rods fell to the floor, coated in fluid leaking from a bio-neural gel pack. "For the most part, but without the guidance assembly, the torpedo's useless."

"Can you build one?"

"Maybe. It'll take some time."

"How much?"

"Handful of hours, maybe. But I'll have to do it here. _Icarus_ doesn't have the parts."

Selene frowned, glancing around at the shadow filled room. "Great, more time on this ship."

"Looks like."

That was when the lights went out.

Alex and Selene were plunged into total darkness as the emergency lights shut down. Instinctively, Selene ripped her phaser out of it's holster, spinning around and searching for a target. Crouched next to the torpedo, Alex pulled his own weapon, listening intently for any movement beyond Selene. "What the hell is going on here?"

Selene's voice floated back to him from across the room, eerily disembodied. "I have no idea, but I'm really not liking this ship."

Agreement drifted across Alex's mind as he stood, pressing his back against the wall, his phaser clutched in both hands. "You know what you were saying about horror holos earlier?"

"Yeah."

"I think I've seen this one."

And with a quicksilver flash, they both vanished into a transporter beam.

-----

_Icarus_ cruised low over the Warbird, the emerald hull of the much larger ship passing by a mere ten meters below. From his viewpoint on the bridge, Tal watched the hooked nose of the raptor shaped cruiser grow closer.

With practiced ease, he leaned over and cut the thrusters, letting Icarus float forward under the power of inertia. As they passed over the ship's neck, he brought them to a full stop, hanging motionless over one of the secondary airlocks. Tapping the shipwide comm., he spoke, his tone bored and just a little bitter. "We're here, if anyone's interested."

Kordath's voice crackled through the speaker, "_Are you alright, Tal?"_

"Oh yeah, fine. Don't worry about me. I didn't want to go anyway."

A sigh, followed by Nyssa's exasperated voice. "_Tal, we've been over this. Someone has to stay with the ship in case the Skipper and Alex call. Which means that person has to be able to fly her. That means _you_."_ Tal puffed out a noncommittal noise, half sigh and half grunt. Another sigh from the speaker. "_On top of that, Kordath is coming because I'm going to need someone strong to carry the core."_

"Is that a crack about my size? I'll have you know that I'm not weak, I'm... streamlined. Wiry."

"_Whatever. Also, I have to go because, unless you've taken a course I don't know about, you can't read Rihanssu_."

A grunt from Kordath. "_Can we proceed?"_

Tal rolled his eyes, the fact that Nyssa's argument was logical, well thought out and absolutely right just served to annoy him more. He didn't want her to be right, dammit. Was it too much to ask for the woman to be wrong just once? "Fine. Go. Have a good time. Bring back a miniature black hole. Have fun."

Over the open channel, he could hear the airlock door hiss open, exposing Nyssa and Kordath to open space. Static crackled for a second before Nyssa spoke. "_Anything you want us to bring back from the store?"_

He opened his mouth to make a smart reply, but then a thought occurred to him. A grin flitting across his face, he leaned forward towards the microphone. "Actually, if you see any Romulan Ale, bring me back a bottle."

Outside the _Icarus_, drifting slowly downwards towards the ancient Warship, Nyssa smiled in her bulky EVA suit. "I'll see what I can do, fly-boy. You got that, Kordath? One black hole and one Romulan Ale."

Beside her, the Klingon landed gently on the hull, his size stretching his own environmental suit to uncomfortable limits. His voice filtered through Nyssa's comm., heavily distorted. _"Romulan Ale is for the weak. Blood wine is a true drink."_

Nyssa touched down, pressing a sequence of buttons on her suit's control panel to activate the magnetic locks in her boots. With a few hesitant steps, she found herself crouching next to the airlock. Opening the access panel, she stared at the darkened screen for a quick moment before hooking the small emergency generator in her hand into it. With a flicker of static, resolving into an image of the Romulan Bird of Prey clutching the planets of Romulus and Remus in it's talons, followed by the sharp writing of their language.

ENTER ACCESS CODE.

Pulling a tricorder off the sleeve of her suit, she ran a wire from it into the panel, accessing the airlock's controls. Quickly, she ran a program Alex had written to override the doors.

With a solid clunk, the outer airlock doors cycled open, bathing Nyssa and Kordath in a dark green light. Looking up at the belly of the _Icarus_, Nyssa waved. "We're in."

_Icarus _began to back away lazily, coming about as she gained distance. From the bridge windows, Nyssa could see Tal waving back. "_Copy that. You guys take it easy, I'll be back in an hour. I'm gonna go see if I can find_ Enterprise."

"Have fun." Sliding off the hull, she and Kordath dropped into the Warbird.

-----

Alone on the _Icarus_, Tal leaned into his chair, pressing his spine into the back of the seat. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he stared out at the quickly receding shape of the _Valdore_-class. Nyssa and Kordath were over there, Alex and the Skipper were over on the _Grissom_, and he was alone here.

_Tal…_

The voice was whispered over his shoulder, making him spin around. Behind him, the bridge was empty, no one else in the room. "Okay. Creepy."

Grabbing the controls, he spun the ship on her axis, accelerating back towards the fleet. Unable to resist, he carefully looked back over his shoulder. Still nothing.

"Okay. No problem. No problems at all."

But for the first time, _Icarus_ actually felt dangerous.

-----

Selene felt the transporter beam grab her, taking her apart molecule by molecule in the maintenance bay and reassembling her... somewhere else. Where that 'somewhere else' was, she had no idea.

But she was fairly certain that it was at least several feet in the air.

With a quick shriek, she fell, landing face first in the mud. The wet ground splashed around her, staining her clothes even as the pouring rain soaked them through. Groaning, she pushed herself to her knees, doing what she could to wipe the muck off of her. "God... I hate transporters. Alex? You okay?"

There was no answer.

Brushing a hand across her face, she glanced around for the engineer. She was stuck in the middle of a forest, the rain pouring down so hard that she could barely see ten feet around her. If the rainfall was this dense underneath the treetops, it must be a hundred times worse in the clear. The ground was sopping wet, deep puddles all around, but Alex was nowhere in sight. "Alex?" She stood, whipping her head around even as she lifted her phaser. "Alex!"

When no answer came except for the falling rain, she cursed and shoved her phaser back into it's holster. "I'm really not liking this." Brushing a hand through her sopping wet hair, she leaned up against one of the trees, trying to minimize her exposure to the pouring rain.

This made no sense. None at all. Twenty seconds ago, she had been on a starship, which had been trapped in a subspace bubble, with no planets anywhere in the vicinity. Now, she was planetside, getting soaked, with no indication of where she was. Not to mention, Alex was now missing.

Cursing a second time, she pushed off the tree and started heading towards what she hoped was the forest's perimeter. She wasn't going to get anywhere just standing around. In the distance, she could hear the muffled sound of a crowd. Whatever was going on, it was big.

"You know, just once, I would like a mission to go according to plan. Is that too much to ask? Because you wouldn't think that it would be." Brushing a last branch out of the way, she emerged from the forest to find herself in the middle of a city, people running in all directions around her as shrill sirens filled the air. Looking up, she saw distant flashes in the sky, lighting the clouds in shades of red, blue and green.

"You! Stop where you are!"

Selene froze midstep, sensing the weapon pointed at her back. A hand reached around her side, pulling her phaser out of it's holster. "Turn around." She turned, coming face to face with a member of the Romulan military. "Who are you? Where are you from?"

"Look, I have no idea where I am. A minute ago, I was on the _Grissom_ and..."

"You're from the _Grissom_?" The guard lowered the phaser. "What's going on up there? Are you here to help with the evacuation?"

"Evacuation? I don't know what's going on. Where am I?"

"You're on Romulus." He looked upwards at the sky, frowning. "Assuming that's there's going to be a Romulus left for long."

Selene looked at the sky, taking in the strangely coloured lightning and cursed. She suddenly knew where she was, even if she had no idea how she had gotten there. "Oh, damn it."

Welcome to the battle of Romulus.

-----

The first thing that Alex heard as he rematerialized was the sound of a high-pitched alarm rhythmically shrieking in his ears, quickly followed by a calm female voice that he had heard so many times before.

"Red alert. All hands to battle stations. This is a class one emergency. Red alert."

Alex's eyes snapped open, the instincts that had been drilled into him during his academy years taking over and driving him to his feet. It took him a half-second to remember that he wasn't on the _Albion_, that he had been on the _Grissom_ a moment ago and that he seemed to still be on the old _Sovereign_ class. But the changes that had taken place in the last split second were astounding.

He was standing in a side access corridor, hidden in the shadows and watching people dressed in old style Starfleet uniforms run past. The corridors were well-lit, alert bars flashing red at waist height on bulkheads that were clear of any damage. The ship looked like it had been well-maintained, a far cry from the damaged and derelict vessel he had boarded with Selene.

_Selene_...

He glanced around, finding no trace of her. Wherever he had been deposited by the transporter, he had been deposited alone. "Damn it." Tapping his fingers against his leg, he considered his options. Stand here and wait, or step into the hallway and find out what the hell was going on.

He stepped into the hallway.

A passing ensign in command reds nearly ploughed right into him, sidestepping at the last possible second and missing Alex by less than a couple of inches. "What...?" The ensign couldn't have been older than twenty five, sandy hair covering a freckled face. _Kid looks like a stereotype. _"Who are you? What are doing…?" His eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Commander Horton! I'm sorry, Sir! I didn't…"

Commander Horton? Alex looked down to see that his black suit had been replaced with the same style of uniform that the kid was wearing. A black jumpsuit with a grey shoulderbar, the hint of a red turtleneck just barely visible beneath it. Reaching up, Alex felt three circular pips on his collar_. What the hell is going on here?_

"I was just heading to the bridge, Sir. If you'll follow me." The kid began to head off down the corridor towards a nearby turbolift, a confused Alex following behind. "Excuse me, Ensign. What's going on?" Best to play along.

The ensign scowled as he waited for the turbolift. "The Khanate finally made it into the system, Sir. The second fleet's holding them off on the other side of Remus, but logistics believes that they should be here within the hour."

"Right. Of course." _The battle of Romulus. Oh great. How the hell did I go back in time? There's no way that could have been a temporal transporter. And why do they think I'm this Commander Horton? _The lift door opened and they both stepped in, the doors hissing shut behind them. "Bridge." Answering the ensign's command, the turbolift began it's ascent towards deck one. Doing his best to act inconspicuous, Alex reached out with his nanites, searching for an interface with the ship.

And found nothing.

Alex frowned and tried again. There was still nothing. This wasn't right. Alex's frown deepened. No matter where or when he was, his nanites should be able to connect with any computer system. But for some reason, this time he couldn't. It was as if he were blind.

And it was beginning to scare the hell out of him.

The floor swayed a bit as the lift came to as top and the doors opened onto the bridge. If Alex had had any doubt before about what ship he was on before, they vanished now. The bridge was a standard _Sovereign_ class bridge, the captain's chair sitting on a raised platform and surrounded by the various stations. From his position at the back of the bridge, Alex could see officers and enlisted crewmen milling about, preparing the ship for battle. The ensign stood next to him for a second, before nodding and stepping down to take his place directly in front of the viewscreen at the helm.

Looking towards his right, Alex found the captain standing by the science station at the back of the bridge, his figure hunched over as he examined what he saw there. Deciding again that it might be best to play along, Alex stepped towards the captain, taking a deep breath. "Sir?"

"Commander Horton. I apologize that your transfer had to come at such an inopportune time." The Captain rose and turned, taking Alex's hand in a firm grip. "Welcome aboard the _Grissom_."

Alex felt his jaw drop. He was staring at a legend, in both this universe and his own. From his dark hair, pale skin and formal speech, he was exactly as the records in the Starfleet archives portrayed him, except for one thing:

Commander Data had died a hundred and sixty six years before the battle of Romulus.


	28. Homefires, Ch 4

**Homefires, Chapter Three:  
**

"_You don't grab power. You accumulate it... quietly... without anyone noticing."_  
-Grand Nagus Zek, "_The Nagus_" 

-----

Deep within the stone walls of Rakiin's estate, medical technicians circled the stasis casket, taking tissue samples and watching the life signs of the mangled body within like Vultures picking at the form of a dying man. For days, they had worked under the blinding lights of the operating theatre, the knowledge that failure in this project would lead to their own deaths spurring them towards success.

Trapped within the icy blue glow of the stasis chamber, a dark haired man lay, his face twisted in a look of utter agony that had nothing to do with the gaping wound in his chest. It was the look of a man who had made a deal with the devil and was only beginning to understand the cost. Tattered black and red cloth hung from his frame, the remains of a uniform belonging to a now lost time and place, belonging to an organization that no longer existed.

They say that clothes make the man. What does that say about Starfleet Commander Jason Madden?

Cocconed in suspended animation, Madden lay frozen, his body paralyzed and unable to move. His vital signs hovered on the edge of death, his brain wave patterns near flatline, but his subconscious mind worked at dizzying speeds, events and memories flickering past the mind's eye like an ancient film.

Jason Madden was a prisoner, but his mind was free.

-----

_Jonathan Archer Elementary School  
Jason Madden's memories…_

_Jason grinned from ear to ear and bit down on his tongue, his bright eyes narrowing in a ten year old's definition of intense concentration, the metal baseball bat clenched in his fists and hovering over one shoulder. On the centre mound, Mike Perman grinned back and wound up the pitch, sending the baseball hurtling toward Jason at what seemed to be an amazing speed. _

_Mike was the best. No one at Archer Elementary could beat him when he was pitching. Jason could hear the sounds of a couple of hundred students watching the game, some yelling that he was gonna lose, some cheering him on. As the ball sped towards him, he laughed._

_He never lost._

_With an ear-splitting crack, the bat struck the ball straight on hard enough that Jason's hands stung. All of the kids, and even some of the teachers, went quiet as they watched the small sphere fly at what Jason liked to think was warp speed straight up into the sky. Even Mike Perman was watching it go, his mouth hanging open. Jason just stood there, the bat hanging at his side, watching the ball vanish._

_The crowd screamed._

_Jason started to laugh like an idiot, dropping the bat and taking off as fast as he could around the bases. On the pitcher's mound, Mike looked like he was about to cry, and that just made things even better. Today was Jason's day, and there was absolutely nothing that could stop him. Ever._

_The bases flashed by, the other kids either staring at him in shock or desperately trying to find the baseball. The sound of a few hundred kids screaming his name surrounded him, making him laugh even harder, telling him that he was the best, that the world was his and that there was nothing that he couldn't do._

_He was almost at second base when he saw it, hidden behind the edge of the school. No one else could see it happening. The grin left his face, his kid's features twisting in determination as he spun hard to the right and left the diamond, tearing across the schoolyard as fast as he could, leaving the confused crowd behind him._

_This was HIS day. HIS! And things like this wouldn't happen._

_He rammed into the first, sending the bigger kid flying to the ground. The second started to turn around, but Jason spun, kicking him in the back of the knee and dropping him. Both of them were on the ground now, too surprised to pick themselves up. They were big, huge. They had to be at least twelve or thirteen, but that didn't matter. Jason stood in front of them, his legs spread apart and his fists clenched, ready for a fight. _

_Jason glanced over his shoulder at the little kid lying on the ground. He was bruised and cut, desperately trying to wipe the blood from his face. "You okay?"_

_The kid nodded so hard that Jason though his head was going to fall off. Smiling, Jason turned back to the bullies, squinting as they pulled themselves up off the ground. "You want to pick on kids? Pick on me."_

_They ran straight for him, their fists up and swinging. Jason laughed and ran towards them._

_This was his day, and NOTHING could stop him._

-----

How long had it been since that baseball game, since the world had been clearly divisible between good and bad? A lifetime ago. When had he last been that sure of anything?

When had he last been sure of who he was?

He didn't know anymore.

-----

Aishwarya's hand paused over the paper, her pen twitching slightly as she hesitated. With an quiet snarl, she dropped the pen and crumpled the paper, tossing it aside to join the ever growing pile at the side of her desk. Turning away from her work, a new translation of Surak's _Kir'shara_, she glanced out the floor to ceiling window of her study, staring out at the great city of Fatalis.

The city was a joining of disparate styles and motifs, a cross between the cities of Earth's ancient middle east and far Asia, sandstone walls merging with transparent steel windows. Enormous towers reached for the sky alongside the pyramids and mansions of the higher nobility, all cast in shadows by the early morning sun. Already the sounds of life could be heard. Marketplaces opening; transports jetting across the cityscape; people waking.

With a sigh, she removed the pins from her hair and shook it loose of the bun, running her hands through it in an attempt to relieve the tension building between her eyes. Rising from her desk, the historian crossed to the far wall and lifted her dressing gown, shrugging it over her shoulders before stepping out onto her balcony.

It had been nearly three days now since their return to Fatalis, and Aishwarya had yet to see her brother return. He wasn't dead, of that she was quite sure. No, that would be far too simple an answer, and in Fatalis, things were never simple. Leaning on the railing, she frowned as her mind churned. In Khanate society, all things were cloaked in double talk, veiled threats and outright lies. Cloak and dagger, shadow and flame. We do what we must to make our name. What kind of society taught lessons like that to their children?

They were lessons that Rakiin obviously learned well. Win at all costs. Do not merely defeat your enemies, destroy them. Oh, he learned his lessons very well, but then again, so did she. Nothing is as it appears. Gears within wheels within worlds. Just because she had not learned the same lessons as her brother did not mean that she was a useless academic.

It is much simper to destroy your enemies when they invite you in.

Behind her, there was the sound of the balcony door opening and closing again. A small smile ghosted across her lips even as she refused to turn around to face the newcomer.

"I'm certain that I taught you to be careful."

"I am being careful." Aishwarya watched a personal transport pass by a few towers away. "Anyone looking to kill me wouldn't make so much noise." Turning her back on the city, she smiled for what seemed to be the first time in ages. "Hello, Darius."

The former Warmaster smiled widely and wrapped her in his arms, laughing as he picked her up off her feet and swung her about. "Welcome home, Child. Welcome home." Placing her back on her feet, Darius stepped back and looked at her, his smile becoming a slight frown. "You look unwell, Aishwarya."

Sighing heavily, Aishwarya turned back towards the city, her eyes hidden behind streams of raven hair. "I'm quite healthy, Darius. I'm fine."

"That is not what I meant, and you know it." Darius appeared at her side, his own eyes fixed on the horizon. "You look _unwell_."

Absently sketching a pattern into the railing, Aishwarya glanced at Darius. "Would you care to walk with me, Darius?"

"Always, Child. Always."

-----

_Madame Chang's Chinese Restaurant, San Francisco  
The memories of Jason Madden_

_Jason rolled the chicken ball around the edge of his plate, doing his best to soak up as much of the sweet and sour sauce as he could. Finally spearing it with his fork, he lifted it to his mouth and bit into it, only half paying attention._

_Madame Chang's Chinese was a small restaurant down by the waterfront, had been by the waterfront for nearly nine hundred years. It had been sold a few dozen times, shut down for business here and there, but when it was around, you were lucky if you could get a table. Madame Chang's was a legend at the Academy, more so than even the Launch Pad bar. Looking around tonight, Jason could see that every table was full, and he could hear the lineup outside waiting to get in._

_Maybe that's what was keeping him. He was stuck in the line. Almost as quickly as Jason had the thought, he dismissed it. Nah. Alex had made these reservations three weeks ago. There was no way he'd be stuck outside. _

_Jason dropped his fork and picked up his chopsticks, playing with the long cold chow mein. He had already been sitting here for an hour, playing with his dinner and waiting for Alex to finally show up. How much longer was he supposed to sit here and brood?_

_He gave up on dinner and held his head in his hands. He was in his last year at the Academy, another five or six months and he'd be receiving his orders to ship out. What was it that he and Alex had said all those years ago? Thirty years old and Captain? Yeah. Like that was gonna happen. His grades were good, he was always getting praise from his teachers, but for some reason he felt as though he was fooling everyone. What happened to the days where he was the best there was? The days where nothing could stop him? They were long gone, now. _

_But as long as he kept everyone thinking they were still here..._

_Over the crowd he could hear Alex's voice faintly, muffled as if it were on the other side of a wall. Looking up, Jason scanned the room, looking for him but not being able to tell where the voice was coming from._

"_Look, I'm sorry. I know we're late, but I did make a reservation."_

"_A reservation for seven o'clock, Sir. I'm sorry, but it's eight o'clock."_

"_Alex. We are late."_

"_I know. I just want to know, we were supposed to meet a friend here. Did he leave already?"_

_Standing, Jason walked to the front of the restaurant, carefully side-stepping the other patrons. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he opened his mouth to make some smart-assed comment towards Alex for being late, but the words never had a chance to leave his mouth._

_A couple of feet behind Alex, a dark haired woman stood against the wall, a shy and embarrassed grin on her face, almost as though she was the reason for Alex being late. She glanced up and caught Jason's eye, smiled and tapped Alex on the shoulder. Stopping mid-sentence, Alex turned from the restaurant's host and looked right at Jason. Looking back at the host, Alex shrugged. "Found him, thanks." _

_Together, the two of them left the lineup and headed towards him, and the entire time Jason couldn't look away from the woman. She was about average height, and absolutely beautiful in a strange, exotic way. For the first time, Jason could see why Alex hadn't shut up about her for six months. _

"_Jason." Alex shrugged apologetically, "Sorry 'bout being late."_

"_My fault." The woman blushed, "We… got… uhhh…. Occupied. Yeah, occupied's a good word."_

_Alex blushed to the roots of his hair as Jason fought to keep his jaw from dropping. Uncomfortably, Alex changed the subject. "Anyway... uhh... Jason Madden, meet Selene Weller."_

_Selene held out her hand. "Nice to finally meet you."_

-----

She was dead now. Selene was gone. Alex was who knew where. And Jason...

Jason didn't even know _who_ he was anymore.

The three musketeers had finally fallen.

-----

Darius knelt down and brushed his hand across the bush in front of him, grasping the petals of the flowers and rubbing them between his fingertips. Behind him, Aishwarya stood in the middle of the estate's garden, her back straight and her posture perfect. Sighing in exasperation, Darius stood and turned back to her. "You look like you are expecting an attack, Aishwarya."

Relaxing slightly, the historian smiled slightly, although Darius noticed that it didn't the smile didn't touch her eyes. "Perhaps I am."

"Good. Then I taught you properly."

"Home is the hunter." Her voice developed a singsong quality, as though she were repeating something she had heard thousands of times before. "Especially our home." With hooded eyes, she watched one of the house gardeners walk past, the young man bowing deeply as he scurried by her and back into the estate. Alone in the gardens, Darius nodded and reached into his robes, pulling out a small cylinder. Tapping one end, he winced as it emitted a high pitched buzz that rose up into the ultrasonic. Tucking it back into it's pocket, he glanced up at Aishwarya. "We're safe. Eighteen listening devices, all told, in case you are interested."

Raising an eyebrow, Aishwarya looked around. "Eighteen? I only knew about seventeen. Rakiin is becoming more proficient. He actually hid one from me."

"Nice to see that not all of the training the boy received has vanished." Frowning, Darius held his hands behind his back, the playful demeanour of the old man vanishing behind the businesslike face of the soldier. "What happened?"

Aishwarya seemed to collapse before his eyes, holding her head in her hands as her shoulders slumped. "What have you heard?"

"Enough. The _Gilgamesh_ returned home in need of quite a few repairs to her computer systems. One of the engineers assigned was heard saying that it may take months to purge the damaged systems."

"Really?" This time the smile did reach her eyes, a fact that Darius would have seen blind. _That must be an interesting story_.

"Yes. Also, there are reports that Herma'Taklan has been disgraced, Shade is in a coma, and that Rakiin managed to find a human from another reality."

"Anything else?"

"That the damage to the _Gilgamesh_ was done by a single, Federation cargo ship. Am I missing anything?"

Aishwarya shook her head. "No. You have the broad strokes."

"And the details?"

"Two humans escaped. A Starfleet captain and an engineer from another reality. He is the one who did the damage to the computer systems. The other human, Herma'Taklan shot during the escape. His name is Jason Madden, and at the moment, he is being held in the medical ward in the estate's sub-levels." Her voice tightened for an instant with disgust. "Rakiin wants him as a new commander to replace Herma'Taklan."

Darius nodded, considering her story. "The humans escaped?"

"All but Madden."

"How?"

They stared at each other for a long moment before Aishwarya's lips curled upwards in a small grin. "Help from on high?"

Darius laughed, "Oh, that's a good girl. I did teach you well. You're still alive."

Aishwarya scowled and crossed her arms across her chest. "I'm only still alive because Rakiin enjoys having a pet he can beat." Sighing, she shook her head. "Herma'Taklan knows, I think, though I don't know why he hasn't told Rakiin. Shade, though..." Her voice trailed off.

"What about Shade?"

"I'm unsure. I attacked him. I'm the one who put him in a coma. If he wakes…"

"If he wakes, he tells Rakiin, and you die."

She shrugged, "Not exactly the way I would have phrased it, but true enough, I suppose."

Darius sighed as he examined the situation. "You should leave, but I have suggested that before."

"I can't leave, Darius. I'm needed here." Her eyes drifted towards the door leading back into the house. "I cannot leave Jason Madden. He is here because of me. He is becoming what he is becoming because of me. I cannot abandon him."

"And so we have to find another way to protect you." Darius shook his head, "Killing Shade is out of the question. And Madden..."

"Or what he is becoming," Aishwarya finished for him, "may become a threat."

Together, they stood in the garden, listening as the words hung in the air.

-----

_In orbit of Jupiter  
The memories of Jason Madden..._

_It should have been easy._

_The thought echoed through Jason's mind as he tore through the hallways of Sensor Platform Fourteen, the red alert klaxon ringing in his ears. A small meteor shower, very little structural damage to the platform but the sensor systems had to be recalibrated. It was the perfect mission to send a group of cadets on to get some 'on the job' training. _

_That was before a bulkhead had ruptured, pulling three members of his team into vacuum. Mark Conray. Jenny Dugan. Ashley Summer. Another three weeks and they would have graduated. _

"Red alert. Structural integrity compromised. Red alert."_ Yeah, yeah. Where the hell had that alarm been five minutes ago when it would have saved those three? _

_Jason ran around the corner and nearly slammed into Alex, the both of them skidding to a halt inches away from each other. Alex already had his EVA suit on, the helmet in one hand. "You okay?"_

_What a stupid question, Jason thought. Of course I'm not okay. "Yeah, I'm fine. You?"_

_Alex shrugged. "Been better. Anyone else?"_

"_No. The other three are gone." Jason shook his head, "We have to get out of here. Now." _

"_Lead the way, Fearless Leader."_

"_Don't call me that." And Jason turned and ran, Alex only steps behind him. Together, they headed for the shuttlecraft that had brought them to the platform, and now their only way off. Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas._

_An emergency bulkhead blocked the corridor two junctions from the airlock._

_Jason plowed right into it, snarling as he heard his shoulder crack. Punching the wall, he shouted. "You have got to be kidding me!"_

"_If they are, I'm not getting the joke." Alex knelt down and pried a panel off the wall, checking the controls. "No. It's sealed good and proper. I can't open this. Not in the amount of time we have."_

_Gulping with a suddenly very dry throat, Jason tried to remember anything his instructors back at the Academy would have said about this kind of situation. "Get your helmet on."_

_Alex looked up. "What?"_

"_Get your helmet on!" Jason snapped his into place, barely paying attention as Alex did the same. Pulling his phaser, Jason aimed at the bulkhead. "Only one way off this junkheap now."_

"_Jason! No! Don't...!"_

_Jason pulled the trigger._

_The bulkhead exploded._

_The explosive decompression overloaded the already stressed Structural Intgrity Field._

_The platform was ripped apart around them._

_The world went black._

-----

Act first. That was his problem. He had always acted first, and thought later. Oh, he and Alex had survived the collapse, he had even received a commendation. But it didn't change the truth of things.

When I came right down to the wire, he couldn't be trusted to make the right decision.

-----

The Citadel stood in the very centre of Fatalis, it's pyramidal shape looming over the great city. Ringing the kilometre wide base of the building was an enormous garden, carefully maintained against the harsh Ceti-Alphan environment. As she and Darius stepped through one of the hundreds of archways leading into the gardens, Aishwarya lowered the hood of her travelling cloak and inhaled deeply. The smells of mint and jasmine assailed her senses, and for one brief instant, she was transported far away from Fatalis, transported somewhere safe.

The instant was quite brief.

Thousands of Khanate milled about, politicians, aides, Lords, ladies... all of them no doubt wondering how best to benefit from the coming death of the Khan. Any sense of safety one had while at the Citadel was an illusion. There were, in fact, probably more assassins and killers present than there were actual politicians.

In her own mind, she was unsure which breed was worse.

"You are certain about this?"

Aishwarya glanced over at Darius, arching an eyebrow at his question. "If we are to find Rakiin, it will undoubtedly be here. Besides, I want to see the state of the empire."

"I could tell you to be careful, but I already know you will be." Darius grasped her hand and nodded, "Be safe, Aishwarya."

Bowing her head, Aishwarya smiled in return. "And you, my friend."

Without another look at her old teacher, Aishwarya turned and walked into the citadel.

-----

_USS _McGann_, turboshaft three  
Jason Madden's memories..._

_Jason prowled back and forth across the turbolift, nervously tugging on his uniform jacket in an attempt to straighten an already straight seam. Dammit. He shouldn't even be here. He'd been invited, of course, but both he and Alex knew that with the _Crichton_ all the way on the other side of the galaxy helping repair a transwarp conduit, the chances of his attending were unlikely at best._

_So, if he couldn't show up to the promotion on time, better late than never, right?_

_What could he say? It had sounded like a good idea at the time._

_Alex was finally making Lieutenant, making it almost as quickly as he himself had, and his best friend's first promotion only happened once. Of course he'd be there. Only now, apparently, he'd mistimed the whole thing. Instead of being able to just meld in with the crowd at the beginning of the ceremony, he was going to be showing up smack dab in the middle of the ceremony._

_Maybe he could sneak in, Alex wouldn't notice. He'd be too busy having that second pip attached to his collar. He'd be distracted, and no one would know that Lieutenant Commander Jason Madden of the USS _Crichton_ had been late for his own best friend's promotion._

_The lift came to a halt and Jason bolted through the doors before they even finished opening, almost barrelling into an ensign who'd had the misfortune of standing right in front of the doors. He yelled a "Sorry!" over his shoulder as he turned the corner. Come on. Come on. This was supposed to be one of the smaller starship classes. Where the hell was the damn mess hall?_

_He was looking so hard for the damn thing that he ran straight past it and had to backstep a few paces to look inside. The captain was at the other side of the room, Alex standing in front of him with his back to the doors. Good. No one could see him. _

_Jason slipped through the doors and leaned against the far wall, watching as the captain fixed a second pip on Alex's collar. The ceremony done, the newly commissioned Lieutenant turned to face the crowd, the smile on his face only getting wider as he saw Jason standing in the back of the room. Fixing the smile on his face, Jason stepped through the crowd of well-wishers until he and Alex stood face to face. "Jason! You actually made it!"_

_Jason grasped Alex's hand and shook it firmly, his smile never wavering. "Took a leave from the _Crichton_. Think I'd miss your promotion?"_

"_Well, you were all the way on the other side of the Delta Quadrant, I didn't actually expect..."_

_A small shape cut between them and grabbed Alex, kissing him full on the mouth. "Congratulations, Mr. Carver."_

"_That's Lieutenant Carver to you, Ensign Carver." Alex wagged his eyebrows as Selene let him go. "And what you just did is against regs."_

"_Really? Well, that could lead to some problems, now couldn't it?" Selene grinned and glanced at Jason. "Jace! You made it!"_

"_Yeah, I was just telling Alex..."_

"_Great! Listen, Alex and I are having a party in holosuite six later this evening. Buffet and dancing in ancient Marseilles. You've got to come."_

"_Yeah, sure. I'll be there." Jason flashed the smile again. The one he'd been using for years. The one that said, 'Don't worry. Everything's good. I'm fine.'_

'_I'm in complete control.'_

-----

At least that was what he told everyone. He was always in complete and utter control of things. He was the best, no one better.

A shame that the truth was that his life always seemed to be out of his control.

-----

The Senate chambers of Fatalis were ancient, one of the first buildings constructed when the Khanate had returned to the site of Khan Noonien Singh's exile to found their great holy city, the capital city of their Empire. As such, the chamber was enormous, designed to symbolize the greatness of the Khanate people as they crushed the Milky Way beneath their heels. It was from here that the empire was controlled, given form. Thousands of Khanate Lords and Ladies, each ruling their own separate realms, were present, either in person or by proxy, as the Senate met.

From her vantage point high in the chamber, Aishwarya looked down on a seething mass of cultures. Ancient Indian, Celtic, Norman, Egyptian, Asian. It was as though the ancient peoples of Earth had been allowed to flourish to their technological and societal ends. To a historian such as herself, it was a fascinating study.

A shame that each of them was tainted by the ambition and ancient hatreds that were her people's legacy.

And watching it all, the Khan sat in the enormous ebony throne, it's intricately carved frame almost hiding the empire's ruler from view. Narrowing her eyes and leaning forward slightly, Aishwarya struggled to make out a clear image of the figure that sat slumped in the chair.

He was covered head to toe in black robes trimmed in gold, a hood over his head and an onyx mask covering his face. What hair that was visible within the hood was shock white, a far cry from the jet black she remembered from the last time she had attended the senate. And he was still, so unmoving that for long seconds she wondered if he had already died, but the she noticed his shoulder move, stiffly, as though he were shrugging off a pain.

Not three months ago he had been the very embodiment of a Khanate Warrior, and now, he seemed to have aged a hundred years. How much of that was the poison, she wondered, and how much was the loss?

"The return of the _Gilgamesh_ to Fatalis in such a state demands investigation! If the Federation has developed the ability to damage one of our ships and escape, then perhaps we have left them for too long!" The words resounded around the chamber, inciting a chorus of cheers and shouts of agreement that nearly deafened Aishwarya. Far below, Ahzul, Lord of what had once been the Romulan Empire, stood in the centre of the marbled floor, his elaborate red and gold armour flashing in the lights. At his side, twin curved swords hid in their sheaths, their Asian influence visible even at this distance. Typical of Ahzul to attend a Senate meeting dressed as though he expected to walk into battle at any second. His realm was possibly the most warlike of them all, and, when one considered the Klingons, that was saying something.

"For six hundred years, we have left that pitiful remnant of the Federation alone, an act of foolishness that we must now suffer for! We have done what we could to impede their progress, but now we see it was all for nothing! They have taken the time to prepare, as my ancestors said they would! We should have wiped them out six centuries ago!"

Another roar of agreement, brought to an end only with a raised hand from the Khan himself. As the volume lowered, so did the hand. Was this always the answer? War? Genocide? The Khanate were supposed to be a more evolved mankind, and yet they could always resort to the old ways used by even the lowliest primate.

From the other side of the chamber, a tall and regal woman dressed in dark clothes stepped forward, bowing to the Khan before she began to speak. Kayla, custodian of the library planet of Memory Prime. "Though I agree with Lord Ahzul that the time has come to finish the Federation, I cannot agree with the method. Time must be taken to analyze the damage done to the _Gilgamesh_, to understand the method of her disabling. If they posses the technology to do this, we must be cautious in our plans. We cannot allow this to happen again."

"Sit and think. Is that all you wish to do, Kayla?" Kijani, a dark skinned woman from the wilds of the Delta Quadrant stood and joined the group on the Senate floor. "I must agree with Ahzul. Kill them all, and kill them now!"

This time, the Khan did not have the chance to stop the outcry. A single tap against the marble floor echoed above the cacophony, drawing everyone's attention, including Aishwarya's own, towards the entrance to the Senate chamber.

The Lady Morrigan had arrived.

And Rakiin was directly behind her.

-----

The memories were coming faster now, cycling through his mind the way water seems to speed up as it nears a drain. His life flashing before his eyes, every second of his life replayed in fast forward as he sat watching, a captive audience. He saw every path he had taken, every choice he had made, every decision he had acted upon. He saw everyone he had ever known, stood everywhere he had ever been. For one long, terrifying, beautiful moment, he saw everything that had made Jason Madden the man he was.

The stasis field collapsed.

His mind exploded with pain as the effect of his chest wound made itself known, fire burning through his limbs and melting away the last remnants of the ice. Panic stricken, Jason gasped for air, desperate to breathe with his damaged lungs. Black spots blurred the edges of his vision as his brain began to collapse, death no longer being held at arm's length.

It was here.

And then everything was taken away.

The memories. The feelings. The experiences. His entire life. They were all gone, replaced by darkness.

-----

_Morrigan_.

If there was one person in this universe that Aishwarya hated even more than Rakiin himself, it would be her. The woman was a credit to her name, as warlike and bloodthirsty as the goddess spoken of in the myths of ancient Ireland. Aishwarya was certain that Morrigan's hand had been involved in her father's death somehow, and Rakiin's longstanding alliance with her only served to strengthen that belief.

"Am I hearing a call to war?" Her voice was rusty, as though it was seldom used, but it still echoed around the chamber, drawing everyone's attention. "War against the Federation. My, my. How... fascinating."

Ahzul stepped forward, his armour clanking with every movement. "Lady Morrigan. Your presence is... unexpected, but welcome."

"I regret the tardiness of my arrival, but it seems I was left unaware of the meeting." She glanced at the Khan, and even through the mask covering his features, Aishwarya could sense the ruler's irritation. "I am certain that my notification was simply misplaced, was it not, my Lord?"

The Khan made no response. Because he wouldn't, she wondered, or because he _couldn't_?

Morrigan hobbled to a seat on the very edge of the floor, thousands of pairs of eyes upon her as she settled into it. "As far as the annihilation of the Federation is concerned, Lord Rakiin and I have discussed the matter and believe that we agree with the majority. The time has come for an end to the Federation, once and for all."

"And what of the damage done to your flagship, Rakiin?" Kayla crossed her arms, a coldly mocking expression on her face. "Would you send our fleets into battle against an enemy that possesses a weapon capable of that level of damage?"

"I ask no one to send their fleets into battle." Rakiin spoke for the first time. Aishwarya leaned forward, resting her head on folded hands as she watched him step away from Morrigan and address the assembly. "This is personal. They did this to _me_, and I will see them suffer for it. _My_ forces will attack the Federation and _my_ forces will destroy them. I need no one else."

"You?" Ahzul laughed, "You're nothing, Rakiin. A pale imitation of your father's greatness. A whelp in the robes of a King. You have fewer than five cruisers, one of which is currently in orbit under repair! Your fleet has lost Herma'Taklan, that Jem'Hadar you so laughingly called a Commander, and now you wish to take them all into battle?" The Japanese lord shook his head. "Do it. Be gone with you. When you fail, we will collect the pieces."

Rakiin smiled, and Aishwarya felt a shiver run down her spine at her brother's expression. It was the smile of a man who had just forced an enemy into a corner. Something was wrong here. Something had changed.

"You're correct, Ahzul. I have only three operational ships, and Herma'Taklan has failed me. I have no fleet, and I have no commander. What shall I do?" Rakiin shrugged and backed away, turning to stand again at Morrigan's side. "Although, perhaps... perhaps I should use my new fleet, and my new Commander. Perhaps that would be enough."

Aishwarya's eyes narrowed. New fleet? What in the name of Khan Noonien Singh was he speaking of?

Morrigan's laughter filled the room, an awful cackling that felt like fingertips down a chalkboard. Raising her head, the old woman looked directly at the three Khanate standing on the Senate floor. "I would like you all to be the first to hear of Lord Rakiin's impending marriage to my granddaughter, Moira. As such, my fleet of fifty ships is now _his_ to command."

All of the blood drained from Aishwarya's face as she fell back in her chair. This wasn't possible. An official and permanent alliance between her brother and Morrigan? This went beyond the worst case scenario.

"During my mission to Earth, my forces captured three humans. The captain of the vessel that destroyed the Sol Communications array, as well as two humans from a parallel dimension where the Federation did not fall!" Rakiin spread his arms wide, attracting the attention of the entire assembly. "Both of these men are trained Starfleet officers, both using technology beyond even this empire! One of them, Alexander Carver, managed to escape and damaged the _Gilgamesh_ on his own, but the other, a man named Jason Madden... we managed to recapture."

"Then where is he?" Ahzul broke in, "Where is this Jason Madden?"

"Dead, unfortunately." Rakiin shook his head, "He suffered massive injuries during the battle, and though we placed him in stasis immediately, he died not an hour ago."

Even though she had been expecting this, Aishwarya felt a small kick in her heart. Jason Madden was dead, and now she saw where her brother was leading.

"Of course, this is not a total loss." Rakiin smiled, "An autopsy has already revealed a group of Borg nanites in the base of his skull. My scientists are already working on accessing the information within them. I believe that, by the time we arrive on the Federation's doorstep, we should be prepared for anything they could possibly throw at us.

"Of course, this leads me right back to my only remaining problem, doesn't it, Ahzul? I need a man to command my fleet. A man with the ability to not only adapt to, but anticipate, every move the Federation, and especially Alexander Carver, makes against us.

"And I have him."

A figure stepped into the room, his shock white hair contrasting the jet black uniform of a Khanate Commander. He moved gracefully, but proudly, as though he had been serving in the military for years. Aishwarya forced herself to remain focused on the newcomer, even though all she wanted was to look away from the travesty taking place below.

Jason Madden's clone snapped to attention beside Rakiin, ready to lead his armies into battle.

-----

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

Hi everybody! I _**REALLY**_ want to apologize for this chapter taking so long. Real Life concerns forced their way into my life again (How dare they!). Also, I had to rewrite this chapter a dozen times because it just didn't _flow_ right. Not to mention, some of the earlier drafts tended to make Aishwarya look like some sort of helpless victim, which I absolutely hated (And I'm sure you would have too, **Jadziakathryn**). And with little to no action in the chapter, I had to find a way to make exposition _exciting_. Not as easy as it sounds, trust me.

But.

I will say that **Homefires, Chapter Five**, is actually almost done already. With any luck, I'll have it up within a week. And then, THEN, comes the season finale. You won't want to miss that, trust me. BIG changes are in the wind.

Also, small little side note: Doctor Who fans may notice a small tribute I placed in one of Jason's flashbacks. The USS _McGann_ is named for Paul McGann, who played the eighth Doctor only once in the TV movie "The Enemy Within".(Hence, the _McGann_ being one of the smaller classes of starship.)


End file.
